


Light My Fire

by nectarimperial



Series: Light My Fire Verse [1]
Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, M/M, Mentions of Additional Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 93,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nectarimperial/pseuds/nectarimperial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lin Long Dau was just trying to get through his final year of his doctoral program with as minimal interruption as possible, but when he's unwillingly signed up for an online dating site, he realizes that maybe living alone isn't everything it's cracked up to be after all. </p><p>Excited to be selected as a leading undergraduate research assistant working under Milla Maxwell, Jude Mathis just wanted to start his academic career on the right foot, but he didn't expect his first year to be a wild ride from start to finish with a roguish MBA student by the name of Alfred Vint Svent in the driver's seat.</p><p>**Completed**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Professor Grumpy

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've said this before, but I'm pretty terrible at writing. I felt like there just needed to be a really nice Gaiwin story where everything works out and Wingul definitely doesn't go on vacation. And I really just like Alvin/Jude.
> 
> Anyway, I really wanted a college AU because I'm trash, so I hope you like it!
> 
> Chapters will alternate between Wingul's POV and Jude's POV so hang tight! Odd numbered will be Gaius/Wingul focused, and even will be Alvin/Jude focused.
> 
> Rated E for explicit beginning Chapter 2 onward.

Leaning over, she selects the “Continue” button in bold green letters on the middle of SpiritsConnect.com and opens to a form, cursor idly flashing in the top box. Her grey v-neck hangs down and Lin can see down her shirt, black, jeweled lace bra exposed, glasses perched on the end of her nose as her eyes scan the page. She’s typing on the keyboard, filling out the form as best as possible, pausing when she gets to the username.  
  
“The usual?” She asks, typing _lightning-nova_ before he can respond, clicking to the next line and prompting him to enter a password.  
  
“I guess, this is stupid,” he grumbles, entering a response and leaning back in his computer chair. She takes the opportunity to force herself closer to the screen, most of her body across his legs by this point. The whole concept was stupid, he thought; he didn’t like people much anyway, and meeting them on the internet wasn’t going to change the fact that interactions were, on the whole, pointless and unnecessary. He limited himself to as few face-to-face conversations as possible, often getting through an entire day with nothing but a few grunts to his morning barista.  
  
Jill was an exception, however. She was smart, dedicated and loyal. She was passionate about her subject of study and never fell short of anything less than perfection. They’d met during their undergraduate years when they were both forced to take a remedial computer course to learn how to use programs they’d been using consistently for the last ten years. She’d laughed at his snarky comments under his breath.  
  
“Upload a photo, write your self summary,” she pauses, scrolling down the page, “okay here, answer the match questions. ‘Regardless of future plans, what's more interesting to you right now?’ Love or sex?”  
  
“I don’t know, sex.”  
  
“Is astrological sign at all important in a match?”  
  
He grumbles, “No.”  
  
“How willing are you to meet someone in person?”  
  
“I’m not interested in meeting in person.”

“Lin.”

“Jill.”

Jill rolls her eyes, “Fine, whatever,” she says, exasperated. Clicking a couple of buttons, she pulls up the next set of questions, and they answer them together, each one slightly more in-depth than the last. Lin’s surprised at how well they begin to capture his personality, even going so far as to ask about political preferences and ideology, as well as intelligence and logic questions. Eventually, he’s engrossed in answering questions about himself and Jill’s started to read a book, her feet propped up on the edge of the desk. Sometimes she peers over the top of the pages and audibly sighs at his responses, but otherwise she leaves him alone.

 After some time has passed, he leans back and stares at his completed profile, wondering how he was suckered into doing this, “Alright, done,” he says, uploading a photo of himself to his profile. Unless it was for his (relatively popular) Lookbook, Lin didn’t take photos often, but he was always fortunate that when he did need one, he had model quality photos ready for use, even if they were almost all the same setting with different clothes: a shadowed picture of himself looking down against some kind of urban background, like a graffiti-laden brick wall or some overgrown stone steps. Sometimes holding a cigarette.

 “Let’s see,” she says, scooting closer to give her seal of approval, “Your personality profile indicates that you’re an arrogant, politically-motivated individual seeking guys up to the age of thirty-five that are interested in no communication one-night-only affairs. I can’t say it doesn't sound like you, but…” she pauses, “make an effort. You need to get out more.”

 “What about you? You’re still single.”

“Single, but hardly lonely,” she corrects.

 “Tinder doesn’t count.”

 “Neither does Grindr.”

*

It’s still dark when Lin shuffles into the café, sun hiding behind the horizon. His Saint Laurent messenger hangs off his shoulder, heavy with his laptop and a stack of term papers to grade for the undergraduate Political Science class he’s currently teaching about the role of elections in modern society. If it wasn’t for the ability to silently mock his students analytical and writing abilities, he’s pretty sure the entire concept of grading would be a complete chore.

Approaching the counter, he’s slightly taken aback when his usual barista isn’t there, her shoulder-length brown hair (always) decorated with flowers cheering up the otherwise drab interior of the coffee shop. On a typical day, she’ll have a black Americano brewing before he’s even up to the counter, often with some ridiculous name scrawled on the side. Last week it was nothing but an angry emoticon symbol. Sometimes, he’ll tease her about her unnecessarily sunny disposition if he’s feeling particularly social, which isn’t often.

“Where’s Leia?” he asks, adjusting the shoulder strap on his bag.

 “The eyesore?” The barista asks, her long white hair in a braid over her shoulder. “Sick. Just vodka flu, though,” she says idly, scooping ice into a plastic cup and placing it underneath the espresso machine, _Nadia_ on the nametag attached to her apron glinting in the soft lighting of the café. 

“She doesn’t seem like the type.”

“She isn’t,” Nadia replies with a shrug, snapping a lid on the top of the cup and sliding it across the counter, “She let me know what you wanted. Take it up with her if you don’t like the nickname.”  
  
He looked at the cup, _Prof. Grumpy_ in (most certainly not Leia’s) neat handwriting meeting his gaze. Pulling his wallet out of his bag, he pays and settles at a corner table away from the small line beginning to form at the cashiering station, huddled underneath his Rick Owens bomber trench.

The end of the winter semester was swiftly approaching, the coffee shop a clear indication of the anxiety level of the university students. Most were frantically studying, finishing papers in a hurried rush, or drowning themselves in as much caffeine as possible to combat the fact they didn’t get a wink of sleep the previous night.

Lin himself is in a similar enough state, trying to finish his graduate thesis on top of teaching, attending his own classes, and finding enough time for hobbies he feels like he hasn’t had the chance to enjoy since before he ever started university. Choosing to forget about such nonsense, he readies a red pen and a rubric (that he specifically handed out _before_ the paper was ever assigned) and begins to grade, rolling his eyes at the sheer incompetence of his students in comprehending the prompt.

When he’s about halfway through and daybreak has already passed, sun bright in the morning sky, Lin starts getting fidgety and reaches for his iPhone, unlocking it. He’d waited all morning for the newest model, dragging himself out of bed at 3AM, driven by his consumerist desire to gloat about having it before the rest of his friends.  
  
There’s two Snapchats from Jill. One of a snipe photo of the hot guy in front of her at Starbucks, and the other of a scarf hanging out of a trashcan with the caption _Found my ex_ followed by a series of emojis. Exiting out of the application, he notices a new pink and blue logo sitting on the second page of his ‘social’ category and rolls his eyes, recognizing it as the official app for the dating website he was signed up for against his will.

Tapping the icon and holding it down until it wiggles, little ‘x’ appearing in the corner, he pauses for a moment and against his better judgment he clicks the home button and cancels the previous action, opening the application instead. Conveniently, he’s already logged in and he makes a mental note to change all of his passwords to keep his privacy from meddling roommates that take sketchy photos of coffee shop patrons.

Lin stares at the rows of photos and ridiculous usernames, ignoring the messages sitting in his inbox. One guy has “married to my Xbox” on his profile and another lists “I will never measure up to artificial standards” in his self-summary. He wonders briefly if his profile sounds that arrogant and then stops himself, wondering why he cares at all. Scanning his matches, a profile without a picture catches his eye. Not because there isn’t a photo, but because he was exactly a 50% match and 50% enemy with the individual. 

Tapping open the profile, Lin starts to read the information and tries his best not to smile when the words Sound Authoritative And Direct But The Typeset Seemed Strange For Someone That Was Only 32. There wasn’t a picture due to his line of work, just an indication that it would be provided if they agreed to meet. Scrolling down, he continues to read when someone dropping a heavy bag on the opposite end of his table interrupts his thoughts.

“I have a question, glad I found you.” A voice says, moving the messenger bag to the floor by their feet, plopping into the open chair. He looks up and is greeted with Milla Maxwell’s rosy eyes, wild with determination staring intensely back. She’s a graduate student in an interdisciplinary program for sociology and environmental science, the program a development of her own doing, often hailed by the university as a prime example of their student’s innovation and genius.

“What can I help you with, Maxwell?” They hadn’t really ever gotten along, not since their first class together as undergraduates, anyway, a government class that required a debate as part of a lesson on social contracts. She advocated Locke’s philosophies, and made an impassioned argument about how the nature of man was inherently good and the role of government was to not only benefit the public, but to be shared among its citizens. Naturally, Lin had been the opposite, citing Hobbes, claiming that man was evil and government was instituted to be all-powerful and absolute.

Taking off the lid of her tea, she blows on the rim of the cup and says simply, “We need you, Lin.” Her eyes never leave his until he breaks eye contact to glance back down at his iPhone and she continues, “Taurus Energy has just agreed to provide us the resources for our research. We’ll be entering the testing phase soon and we need to obtain grant money to support the work we’re doing. You’re a strong writer and nobody understands the government as well as you.”

He scoffs, “You’re using Taurus’ assets, why do you need the government’s money, too?”

“So you’re saying that when this study is released to the public, we would have absolutely no conflicts whatsoever by accepting capital solely from a private corporation with their own interests and agenda?” Lin shoots her a glare and she does nothing but meet his gaze, expression unwavering. Her blonde ombre hair is pulled into a low-hanging ponytail, swirling around her hips, and even sitting straight up, her sweater doesn’t cover her midriff. Milla had never been too modest when it came to her clothing selections.

“No. You’re, unfortunately, correct. Equal support of funding from both corporate and government sources would be beneficial. Look, Maxwell, I have my own thesis and I can’t babysit you,” he sighs, turning his red pen on the paper in front of him, scowling at the name typed on the coversheet. “Don’t you have that little prodigy, now? He’s in my class for a prerequisite—“

“Jude? Yes, he’s been quite helpful to my goals. But he isn’t a specialist on the government or its tactics. That’s you,” she pauses briefly before asking, “How is he doing? I’ve heard your classes are difficult.”

Lin looked down at the paper in front of him, gesturing for her to wait a moment. He scans the pages with speed, making swift check marks on the rubric sheet. After ten minutes or so he says, “Regrettably well. This term paper he submitted calculates to a 97%." 

Milla laughed, “He really is a do-gooder.” Standing up, she snaps her lid on the top of her tea and pulls her bag over her shoulder, fixing the scarf around her neck. “Think it over, Lin. Text me if you have any questions.”

“I don’t have your number. I made a point to delete it when I upgraded to the six plus.”

“I added it while you were grading Jude’s paper. It’s the same password you gave me when we did that project together sophomore year. By the way, I didn’t know you liked older men,” Milla says before tossing her hair over her shoulder, fixing her earmuffs over her head and making her way toward the entrance. 

Dumbfounded, Lin stares at her retreating figure before scrambling for his iPhone, checking to see what was open on his device. He unlocks his phone and stares at the profile titled “gaius32” open in the dating application. Groaning loudly when he notices the nudge button greyed out, signaling that contact had been made, he curses her name under his breath, hoping that maybe the nudge got lost in the inner workings of cyberspace, wondering why these women thought violating his privacy was an acceptable pastime. 

The barista from earlier is standing near his table with her arms crossed, holding a wet dish towel in one hand, water dripping on the floor, staring at the door Milla just recently exited from. “God I’d like to sock her in her pretty, perfect little face.”  
  
“Me too,” he agrees without thinking. Pausing, he turns to her, “What was your name again?”

“Nadia.”

“I’m—“

“Can it, the eyesore already told me yours.” Lin shrugs, and they both stay silent for a moment, still watching the door as though she was going to burst back in at any second. After a bit, Nadia drops herself in the empty seat, throwing the rag on the table between them.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Nadia.”  
  
Her severe expression softens for just a moment before she responds, “Same.”

* 

By this point in his academic career, he’s taught enough classes to expect the grumbling and complaining from his students concerning grades. He made a point of including that in the syllabus that grades would not be rounded up and to speak with him only during office hours if there was a discrepancy concerning grading or any additional questions.

It was only recently that he’d started to offer extra credit, when his academic advisor suggested that while his grading seemed fair and his tests were a little too difficult but reasonable nonetheless, his severity in running his classes might be best nicely offset by offering extra credit at least twice during the semester, reminding Lin that part of his success as a doctorial candidate depended on the student submitted evaluation forms.  
  
“There is no harm in once or twice, Lin,” his advisor had said, leaning back in his high leather-backed seat, drumming his dark blue-gloved fingers against the dark mahogany of the thick desk.  
  
He merely scowled in response, “Why should I offer it if they didn’t deserve it, Ilbert?”  
  
Rowen laughed, “I am not asking you to just give it with no regard to their academic futures. Make them work, ask them to write a paper, participate in an activity, volunteer, give back to the community. But we do read what your students say and it will be difficult to secure a tenure position if your feedback is not as,” he paused, tugging on the end of his beard, “optimal as it should be.”

Slouching into the chair, he grumbled but agreed.

Since then, he’d made a point to give exactly two, no more and no less, extra credit opportunities for each of his classes. For his current class on elections, students could volunteer for any political party (though Lin made it very clear what the acceptable party should be) of their choosing campaigning, or they could attend a speech by former Chief of Staff, current department chair of Political Science, and his own advisor Rowen J. Ilbert about the changing nature of democracy.

“I think that’s it for today, if you have any further questions regarding your final papers or grades, I will only accept them during office hours,” Lin says, sitting back in the desk chair, closing the presentation on his laptop. He can hear the grumbling and whispering about grades, trying to suppress a smirk at their complaints as the students exit the lecture hall. 

Scrolling through his email quickly before he goes back to his (tiny) office that he shares with the other Political Science candidates, he groans when he hears footsteps approaching. “I thought my instructions were quite clear,” he says without looking up, resting his chin on his hand.  
  
“Um, well. It’s not about the paper actually,” a voice above him stutters, and he glares up at the figure of Jude Mathis, the most nauseatingly exceptional student that has ever taken one of his classes. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he showed up late to his 9AM class every single Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he’d be perfect. Today, Jude hadn't bothered to show up until class’s dismissal at 9:50, dark circles under his eyes.  
  
“What is it then, Mathis?”  
  
“Well, I, uh, I wanted to just turn in this,” he finishes, sliding a neatly stapled stack of papers toward Lin, coversheet attached on top title reading _Democracy’s Role in Modern Political Ideology_. “I noticed that, um, that in the syllabus it stated that repeated tardiness would result in our final grade dropping a letter? So I’m trying to make it up a little by going to Professor Ilbert’s speech. I also did volunteer, but I forgot to get my advisor to sign off and I did pick your political—“

“I’m not dropping your grade.”

“—party, even if they’re all a little, uh, opinioned I guess and I was—“

“Mathis,” Lin interrupts him, a little firmer than before, and Jude jumps, “I’m not dropping your grade for your tardiness.”

“You’re not?” He asks, surprised, adjusting the straps on his oversized backpack stuffed full of, presumably, textbooks and God only knows what. The left side of his black bangs are pushed back with a series of effeminate pink bobby pins, and it looks surprisingly natural on him, though Lin isn’t sure why. He’s sporting a contemporary uniform style, plaid pants underneath a cardigan emblazoned with the university logo.

“It would be foolish of me to penalize the only student in this class that actively took notes,” he sighs, stuffing the paper in his Saint Laurent bag along with his laptop. “In fact, it would be foolish of me to even dare touch the prestigious Jude Mathis, what with all of your national recognition and what not.”

From what Lin remembers reading, Jude had successfully expanded upon current medical environmental science when he was in high school and constructed a thesis exploring the relationship between ozone depletion and certain types of cancers. The paper had received such acclaim, he’d been awarded first place in Taurus’ sponsored young scientists program and earned himself a place at the university both as a student and working with Dr. Balan, a professor of biomedical engineering, who had previously pioneered research in that sector. 

He’d also (much to Lin’s distaste) been invited to work with Milla Maxwell and her own dissertation regarding human dependence on non-renewable energy sources, as the development of his own theories would strengthen her research. 

Jude’s cheeks flush a shade of red, “Thank you, I think,” he pauses before asking, “Ah by the way, did Milla manage to speak with you, sir?”

“Unfortunately. I already informed her I would rather go to an early grave than help any of you.”

He nods, “Right, okay. Understood.” Jude repeats several more affirmations, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly before finishing, “Well, um, have a good holiday, then,” turning on his heel and exiting the lecture hall.

Lin sighs, massaging his temples, thankful that he’d elected to have a final paper in lieu of an exam and had the rest of the winter vacation to catch up on sleep and drink as much wine and spiked cider as humanly possible. 

Packing up his bag, he pauses on his iPhone and unlocks the screen, checking his messages. There’s two from Jill:

_Ran into Al this morning at the grocery store wearing leggings and a hoodie holding a tub of ice cream and two bottles of wine._

Followed another text ten minutes later: _Decided I needed more wine and upgraded our statuses from ‘alcoholic grad students’ to ‘drunk moms’ and got boxed wine instead._ (complete with peace sign and wine emojis) 

 ** _I’m okay with that._** He types in reply, scrolling through the other new messages.

There’s one from Nadia:

_The little pimple snatched your phone number from my contacts, I told you it was a bad idea to give it to me._

An unidentified number: 

 _pls tell me u liked prof grumpy :D_ Catching himself smiling, he resumes his usual bored expression and taps the details button in the upper left corner, hits the info symbol and creates a new contact in his phone as “Leia Barista.”  
  
 ** _Acceptable. But you can be more creative._**  

And finally, one from ‘Human Garbage’ 

_Dude, is Jill ok? She’s buying boxed wine..._

**_As if you’re the epitome of refinement._ **

Snorting at the man’s insincere display of concern, he navigates back to the home screen, softly tapping the social category, finger hovering over the dating application, wondering if ‘gaius32’ ever replied to the nudge that was never supposed to be sent in the first place. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opens the ‘messages’ bubble on the sidebar, and sees multiple new notifications. Most of them are asking for inappropriate pictures, one bold user informs him of some very oddly specific things he wants to do to Lin’s face, and several are generic “Hi, how are you?” notes. Scrolling through, he sees one from the profile in question lingering near the bottom.

 _Hello._  
  
And another one after that.  
  
 _I Believe I Hit Enter Too Soon. I Noticed We Share Similar Interests. Would You Like To Discuss These Interests Further?_

At first, he’s inclined to brush it off and ignore the messages, but they’re so oddly formal and different from the rest of the notifications sitting in his inbox that he realizes he can’t disregard them.

 ** _I guess, sure. You’re not a bot, right?_** Figuring he already knew the answer to that question, he asks anyway, just to make sure. Jill said that there had been an increase of spam accounts that attempted to extract personal information through messages.

Clicking his phone closed, he shoves it in his coat pocket and exits the lecture hall, flicking the light off behind him.


	2. This is Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first of Jude's arc. Like I said, it'll be alternating, so thanks for putting up with it if you're only here for one pairing! 
> 
> I kind of imagined Jude is this dog throughout this chapter: http://tinyurl.com/qag545o
> 
> Chapter 2 marks the beginning of the E for explicit rating. Hope it's not too terrible!

Frowning at the red solo cup in his hand, Jude wonders how he ended up in antlers inside the basement of a house party at what he thinks is a fraternity off-campus, buzzed and alone. The bass is too loud, the room is too crowded and he feels uncomfortable in his clothes, thinking that maybe he should’ve tried a little less on his appearance. He hopes that the second vodka tonic in his hand will make the night somewhat more bearable and resents his friends for leaving him stranded while they went and danced with strangers.

“It’ll be fun,” Milla had said, tugging the sleeve of his cardigan, “Musee says tonight’s in honor of Christmas break, so you can go in costume.”

“You’re trusting your sister?” He asked, taking notes on the reading from his chemistry textbook, drawing chemical equations in-between the college-ruled paper. “You know, the same sister that’s still completing her undergraduate degree because she can’t stop partying while you pursue a Ph.D.?”

Milla laughed, “You can be such a do-gooder sometimes.” She rocked back and forth, tugging at her long ombre hair, fidgeting in her tiny skirt, “I think I’ll go as Mrs. Claus. Do you want to be my reindeer?”

He finishes his third drink, forgoing the tonic as a mixer and heading right toward vodka on the rocks, and vaguely registers that he no longer cares that he’s standing at the makeshift bar in shorts that hit above his knees, tights, boots, a shirt with a neckline that exposes most (if not all) of his chest, and a collar with a bell. Atop his head sit a pair of reindeer horns Milla had bought for him and as much as he hates to admit it, she was right; the first semester transitioning to college had been brutal, and there was nothing better than forgetting the midterms and exams he was about to take with alcohol and shitty top 40 music. He downs his drink as fast as he possibly can, coughing at the taste of straight vodka that he isn’t used to. By now, he’s pretty sure he’s drunk, but he won’t admit it.

Leia’s on one side of the room laughing and leaning dangerously close to her abrasive co-worker Nadia, agreeing to another round of shots (despite already being hung over that morning), shooting the clear liquid back and slamming the empty glass on the counter. She’s wearing a makeshift abominable snowman costume, her puffy snowman hat perched on Nadia’s white hair, dress riding well higher than she probably intended, white thigh-high stockings visible even in the dim lighting. Jude knows she works in the morning but shrugs and figures she knows what she’s doing—he isn’t her mother.

On the opposite side, he sees Musee wearing what can only be described as lingerie, straddling the hips of her latest prey. There isn’t really much that's covered and she had made a grand show of entering the party in a large fur-lined red and white cape and flinging it at the nearest unsuspecting victim, revealing her “Santa” costume and earning several catcalls and whistles from (almost) everyone in the room. Her soft green and blue ombre hair gently cascades over her shoulders and even Jude has to admit that she does look amazing.  
  
And finally, across the room, he spots Milla in her own outfit, thinking to himself that it was probably the furthest thing away from a “Mrs. Claus” outfit as possible, leather bra under a red and white caplet, skirt barely covering anything. Sometimes she moves too suddenly and it’s enough to see everything. He thinks about telling her but stops himself, knowing she won’t listen anyway. _It’s easier to move in_ she’ll say, tugging the top of her thigh-high boots up, fixing the hat on top of her head. So he doesn’t bother, and instead somehow winds up with another half a solo cup filled with cheap liquor.

“Pretty cute, isn’t she?” Someone says to his right, and Jude turns to see a man standing with a beer bottle in his black-gloved hand, Santa outfit tight against the ripples of his chest. He’s leaning against the counter, coat open, revealing the deep V-neck underneath. It hangs past his thighs and his pants are tucked into his black knee-high boots. Jude catches himself staring a bit too long and meets the man’s gaze, his eyebrows raised in surprise over brown eyes, “Or are you interested in something else?”  
  
He flushes bright red and looks down at his cup, thinking that the way the ice cubes float in the liquid is pretty amazing, ignoring the comment, unsure of how to reply.

“Alvin.”

“What?” He asks, looking up.  
  
“My name. You know, sometimes people introduce themselves,” Alvin smirks, bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips, downing whatever was left and setting the empty container on the counter. His brown hair is falling into his face and his hat is askew over his eyes. Sometimes, he tries to push it out the way, but it slides down almost instantly, settling into the same position as before.

“Right, um, Jude,” He replies, holding out a hand and then retracting it, thinking that maybe that wasn’t normally protocol at these sorts of events. But he guesses it doesn’t really matter, and after his fourth drink, everything is starting to feel heavier and more sluggish.  
  
Alvin doesn’t return the handshake nor does he make any effort to acknowledge that he hears the boy’s comment, just leans a little closer, sliding a finger underneath Jude’s collar, “Nice touch,” he breathes, lips dangerously close to Jude’s, hand trailing down his neck, and maybe it’s the intoxicating scent of his companion, deep notes of spices and amber of his cologne assaulting his senses, but Jude finds he doesn’t particularly mind the closeness.

“Ah, thanks,” he swallows heavily, finishing the contents of his solo cup, moving to set it on the counter behind him, “So, um, what’re you majoring in?”

He laughs, voice deep and rumbling, “Getting my MBA. Probably shouldn’t be hanging around college parties, but there’s enough people my age that I don’t feel too old. You even legal, kid?’

“No,” Jude blushes, before quickly adding, “I mean, yes. Just not, you know, drinking-legal.” and he isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or their precarious position, but his face grows warm and he suddenly wishes he was outside where it was snowing, gentle flakes settling on the sidewalk. “My friend, Milla, dragged me here. I wanted to stay home and study for next semester’s classes, but uh, yeah. Here I am.”

The expression on his face shifts just a moment, look of surprise across his handsome features before he asks, “Right, you’re the one that got all those awards for your research in her field. Know what she’s planning on announcing next year? I hear it’s supposed to be pretty big news.” 

“What? Oh, no. She’s been pretty quiet about it. I guess I could ask her, she’s right over there,” he replies, gesturing to where she was presently engaged in competing in King’s Cup, playing cards strewn about the small card table, crowd gathered around her and several others.

Alvin shrugs, “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m much more interested in what’s already in front of me.” He shoots him a lopsided smile and moves his hand to run through Jude’s dark hair before he settles on holding an antler between his fingers. “I’m liking the reindeer getup.” By now, Alvin’s leaning down, pushing raven locks out of his golden eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded expression, tongue darting out along his bottom lip.  
  
“Are you actually hitting on me?” He blurts out—this kind of thing doesn’t happen to him often.

“Do you mind?” Alvin raises an eyebrow.

He shakes his head in reply. For a moment Jude hesitates, thinking it’s totally inappropriate, but the four drinks he’s already had tell him it’s a good idea and he closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. He grabs the white fur of Alvin’s coat and tugs him closer, Jude’s Rudolph nose squishing between their faces. It doesn’t feel like much of anything, senses dulled from the alcohol, so Jude pushes harder, standing on his tiptoes, running his tongue along Alvin’s lower lip, tasting as much as he can.

Finally, in the back of his inebriated mind, he realizes that he’s just gone from introductions to shoving his tongue down the throat of someone he didn’t even know and he pulls back, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes against Alvin’s lips, their bodies still pushed up against one another, and Alvin’s hand presses against his back, keeping them together.

He shrugs, “You’re at a party, kid. Don’t tell me this is your first time going home with a stranger?”

“What?” Jude replies, dumbfounded, and before he can say anything further the man’s lips are on his own again, fingers wrapping around his slight waist, sliding down the arch of his back, and he couldn’t care less that there were people around him as he’s shoved against the side of the bar.  
  
“A tail, too?” Alvin murmurs, “You really went all out.” 

When he feels the man’s hands on his ass, any shame he’d tried clinging on to is gone and he figures he might as well go along with it. They stay in dark corner of the party for some time before eventually Alvin half leads and half drags him outside.  
  
The night air is cool and crisp when they finally exit, piles of dark, plowed snow against the sides of the street, and it feels nice against Jude’s sweaty skin, a reprieve from the dark, thick atmosphere of the party. He’s holding onto Alvin’s gloved hand, laughing, trying to keep himself upright as his world swirls and twists and his lips are bright red, faint taste of beer in his mouth. The only thing he can think about is getting into Alvin’s Audi without slipping on the ice and when the man opens the door for him, he slides against the leather seat, impressed with how quietly the engine purrs.

They drive in silence, and suddenly Jude realizes that he never told Milla where he was going, because he didn’t know where he was going. In fact, he vaguely registers that he could be driving in the passenger’s seat to his own murder, but when he feels Alvin’s hand on his upper thigh, he loses all sense of responsibility, figuring he’ll text her in the morning. He’s usually a pretty good judge of character.  
  
Alvin’s apartment isn’t exactly what Jude would consider student living, top floor of a high-rise close to campus, when the elevator doors open to his floor. But their university is known for its elite student body, and between the expensive car and chrome-finished appliances set underneath a travertine counter, his companion is far from the average student.  
  
Before he can appreciate the sheer luxury of the apartment, Alvin’s kissing him and has him shoved against the doorframe, hands underneath his top, pulling at the buckle around his waist, throwing the remaining bits of his reindeer costume on the floor. Jude’s too drunk to hold his body up, letting himself be supported by the wall and the weight of his companion, tugging Alvin’s coat off his body, hands sliding against his skin to the waistband of his pants.  
  
“I can’t wait long enough to go upstairs,” Alvin says, pulling back breathlessly, moving to sit on the couch and dragging Jude with him, seat cushions sinking under their combined weight. For a moment, Jude panics. He’s never done this. He’s never gone home with someone he didn’t know just for _this_. He worries he’s making a mistake, but Alvin keeps kissing him, and he relaxes, thighs wrapped around the other’s hips.

“I want you,” is all he can manage to say in his present state, using all of his energy to focus on not throwing up over the back of the couch as he sits completely exposed and hard in Alvin’s lap, grinding their bodies together with a fierce desperation.  
  
Alvin laughs again, and his deep voice sends a shiver through Jude’s spine as he leans them forward, throwing open a drawer on the coffee table, yanking out a small container, flicking the lid open. Jude shifts his weight, suppressing a moan when he feels Alvin’s fingers sliding inside of him; Jude’s nails digging into his shoulders.  
  
“Fuck, you’re tight. How old are you?” He asks, teeth biting at Jude’s exposed neck.  
  
“Eighteen,” he breathes, dragging his nails along his back as Alvin works him open, senses dull to the pain, “I’m ready, just do it,” he begs.

Alvin bites harder in response, moving Jude’s hips, replacing his fingers with his cock. He thrusts upward unceremoniously and Jude doesn’t care that he doesn’t have time to adjust, pushing his body downward, enjoying the way Alvin feels inside of him, moaning as he grips the other man’s shoulders with force.

He uses Alvin’s body as leverage, riding him as hard as he’s able to, cries of pleasure echoing against the stone walls of the living room. He’s hyperaware of the embarrassing noises coming from his throat and eventually Alvin grips his hips, nails pressing into the flesh, crescent marks visible on his pale skin. 

“Lean back,” he commands, and Jude obeys without question, back falling against Alvin’s legs, shifting his arms so his hands support his weight against the floor. Jude throws his head back and he can feel Alvin deeper inside of him, pounding relentlessly as he holds his body up.  
  
The panic he felt earlier disappears completely as he rocks his body back and forth. He’s close to coming and he knows Alvin must be, too, by the way he’s roughly pushing into him, hissing under his breath. His thighs are starting to hurt and as soon as Alvin moves a hand to touch his cock he comes, spilling against his own stomach. Alvin isn’t too far behind, and he can’t help but love the deep guttural noise that he makes when he thrusts inside of him as deep as he’s able to go. 

Jude’s heart is racing and his skull is pounding from hanging over the side of the couch when Alvin lets go of his body so he’s able to slide off of him. He sits on the carpet for a bit before resting his head against the sofa cushion.  
  
“Fucking eighteen-year-olds like that should be illegal,” Alvin says with a chuckle, patting the space next to him on the couch. Jude complies and wills his tired muscles to clamor up to the empty space. He shifts, lies down, and rests his head on Alvin’s thighs, eyelids drooping with sleep and inebriation.  
  
“I’m glad it isn’t,” Jude replies, and it’s the last thing he remembers before drifting off to sleep.

*

His head is throbbing, his body is aching, and he's not sure of his surroundings as he looks around the room, soft glow of the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. Jude glances down, his clothing haphazardly thrown about the living room, sleek modern furniture surrounding a massive television snuggled into an entertainment center.

In one corner he spots his leggings, and on the glass coffee table he sees his shorts. Gingerly, he pulls himself apart from the body underneath him and steadies himself against the back of the leather sofa. The room is spinning and he isn't sure if he's still drunk or just completely wrecked. His mouth and throat are dry and he wants so badly to go grab a glass of water, but figures he should dress himself first before the other man wakes up.  

He tries to remember his drunken haze from last night and piece together the parts of the puzzle that led him right up to this moment. From what he can recall, Milla took them out to a party and he left with someone. It’s about all he can remember, to be honest, but he deduces by the condition of his body that it was at least a decent night.  
  
He doesn’t want to put the tights back on, but if the digital clock on the DVR is correct, it’s only 5:17 in the morning and it’s probably close to 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Grumbling to himself, he pulls on his underwear, tights, and shorts, throwing his coat on. Jude doesn’t bother to put his accessories on and carries them in his hand.

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, he fishes it out. There are thirteen missed calls and twenty texts from Milla, including the most recent:

 _I’m filing a police report by 7am sharp if I don’t hear back from you._  
  
**_i’m fine don’t worry. be back at my dorm soon._**  
  
It was a partial truth. He was (mostly) fine, aside from the hang over, and he (sort of) knew where he was. Opening the front door to the apartment, he shuts it softly and slips out, taking the elevator down to the lobby. The light in the lobby is much too bright and he tries to shield his gaze as he types in his address, using Siri to route him home. It’s only about a mile and a half away from his dorm and will take about thirty minutes, give or take. The hardest part, Jude thinks to himself, will be the walk of shame in ripped tights and a reindeer suit.

*  
  
“I thought you died!” Milla says, exasperated, throwing her hands up in the air. She’s already standing outside of Jude’s dorm room with Leia, who’s dressed in her barista uniform ready for work and neither of them look especially happy. “Why do you even have a phone if you don’t answer?”

“I’m really sorry, I—“ he stops, shoving his key in the lock, twisting the knob open. There wasn’t anything wrong with what he did last night, but admitting out loud was like a confession, and an acknowledgement that _yes,_ he _did_ behave irresponsibly, and he isn’t sure if he wants that kind of self-reflection at nearly 6AM on a Saturday morning when he’s still sick from the night before. “I was, uh, I was—“

“You were busy with that guy I saw you with last night, weren’t you?” Leia teases, trailing behind them as Jude makes his way to the tiny bathroom in his suite. The honors dorms were lucky enough to come equipped with apartment-style living in single (or double) units, so he didn’t have to try and fight for space in a communal shower. He would’ve liked to live with Leia, but she was lucky enough to have been admitted at all, and the university frowned on co-ed living. “Was he cute?”

Jude can feel his ears grow warm, “Thanks Leia.” He grabs his bathrobe off the hanger in his bedroom and shuffles back to the bathroom, throwing his coat on the ground in the hallway. “I guess so. In a conventional way.”

“What was his name?” Milla asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking rather disgruntled with the whole situation.

He pauses and tries to think back to the party, “Uh, Alan? I think, that sounds right. I remember he had a really nice car and lived in those apartment, er, condos or whatever, they just put in. You know, the expensive ones.”  
  
“Allure? I’ve heard that place is super fancy,” Leia replies. “Was it big inside? Oh, what kind of car did he—“

Milla cuts her off, “ Were you even safe?”  
  
“The apartment was enormous, whatever car has that little Olympic circle logo, and yes, of course.” That’s a lie. He's _pretty sure_ he was safe. But he'd deal with that a little later. “Now I really need to shower, I’m supposed to be at a press conference with Mr. Outway in a few hours,” Jude finishes, shutting the door.  
  
“This conversation isn’t over until I say it is!” Milla shouts through the door, and he laughs and turns on the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Sorry it's early, I'm a little busy tomorrow so better now than Monday! Anyway, Chapter 3 next week!


	3. Snapchat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about posting early again! I get really busy on the weekends so I want to make sure I keep up with it. 
> 
> And omg, Alvin is literally one of my favorite characters. I promise he redeems himself as the story progresses. Gotta start somewhere for character development right? 
> 
> Anyway, hope it's okay!

It’s Saturday and both the ice cream container and box of wine are empty sitting on the coffee table and Lin stares vacantly at the television screen, fading into the credits of _Mean Girls_. Jill’s fiddling with the PlayStation controller, turning the volume down to an acceptable level, champagne blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. They’re both in sweatpants and (matching) university t-shirts, discarded wine glasses by their sides. He glances at his phone, it’s only 10pm. 

“Want to go out?” She asks, checking her iPhone. “Ludger texted me, he’s working tonight at Rogue.”

 Lin snorts, “When isn’t he working?”

“Usually mid-semester when he completely crumbles under the stress from law school, regrets not becoming a chef, doesn’t leave his apartment, calls out for a few days and then stresses about his student loans,” Jill replies, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going. Either put on some real pants or go in that, I don’t care.”

“Fine,” he says and stands up, stretching and shuffling into his bedroom, swapping his clothes for harem pants and complementary sweater underneath his bomber jacket. He contemplates briefly between the traditional look of high top sneakers or his new boots and eventually decided with the temperature and snow, he better stick to boots.

“We’ve both had too much wine so we’re walking, stay warm!” She calls from her room.

“Yeah, whatever,” grabbing his iPhone and keys off the top of his dresser, he waits in the living room, leaning against his couch, passively checking his email. Their apartment is quite large by student standards and up until a few months ago, it was just Lin and a spare bedroom that Jill only used if she was fighting with her (now) ex-boyfriend Alvin. He remembered some of their fights lasting weeks, months even, but now Lin’s apartment was her permanent residence and he recalled with distaste moving her possessions late on a Friday night while he was at out partying in one sitting because she didn’t want to have to come back again.

Lin and Alvin never really got along. Jill had met him in the first couple years of college, beginning her graduate degree in French Language and Literature, and he’d felt like he was the only person to resist Alvin’s charms. He thought of him as a deceitful, lying, and grossly entitled MBA student that didn’t mind turning people into sacrifices to get ahead in life. In fact, he probably thought of it as a tradeoff. 

Nevertheless, he’d been polite. Cordial, even. At least, until their first major fight. According to Jill, they hadn’t discussed what “a break” really meant and therefore she couldn’t hold him responsible for his actions during that time period. Lin disagreed, but remained supportive. Even through the second, third, and four-hundredth major fights until eventually everything was much too broken beyond repair and she insisted that this break-up was final. So far, it had seemed to last, and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want to see her get hurt again.  
  
After he finishes checking his email, he opens his messages on SpiritsConnect.com, checking to see what was new. There was the usual, a string of requests for naked photos, the same guy that wanted to defile Lin’s face, and of course, the only one he’d actually bothered contacting (not by choice of course):

_A What?_

_Oh. I Used “Google” To Search For That Term. “Wikipedia” Provided The Answer. No, I Am Not An Internet Bot._

He snorts. He can’t believe that there’s someone like this in this world. Scrolling down he continues to read:

_Just Absolutely Terrible At This. I Hope You Can Bear With It. You Seem Different Than Most People On This Godforsaken Place._

_**Did you really put Google in quotation marks? Most people start with an open-ended question, you know. What’s your name anyway?**_ He replies, trying his best to suppress the smile on his lips. This man was absolutely ridiculous. Opening up the settings, he decides to have his phone notified whenever gaius32 replies.  
  
“Ready?” Jill asks, throwing a scarf around her neck. Lin looks up from his phone and nods. She hardly looks warm—tights that imitated thigh highs underneath a long-sleeved black sweater mini dress and heeled boots, but she’d always liked the cold more than him, anyway.

Rouge isn’t too far away from their apartment and Lin only slipped once on the ice, Jill catching him around his hips and chiding him for texting and walking at the same time. It’s in the heart of the university’s nightlife district but usually isn’t too crowded, and offers the longest list of wines out of any other establishment in the area. 

Showing their driver’s licenses to the bouncer outside of the bar, Lin makes a direct line for the same corner booth he enjoys occupying whenever he moves from drinking at home to drinking in public. Ludger’s a good bartender. Lin’s favorite wine is already on the table, uncorked, red color glittering in a glass next to Jill’s vodka and club soda with a splash of cranberry. He’s arranging bottles when they arrive and waves, tossing his silver-and-black-splashed hair from his vision.

“Bless you,” Jill says, sitting down, as Ludger wanders over to their table. He smiles in reply, pulling up a chair.  
  
“Why did you even want go out? We’re doing the same thing we were at home.” Lin asks, pulling his iPhone from his jacket pocket.

“Atmosphere, better selection, cute bartender,” she winks at Ludger and he looks away, embarrassed. “And I swear to God if you make me watch any more ridiculous movies I’m going to lose it.”

“They’re great movies,” Lin scoffs, unlocking his phone, “Where is everyone? Usually this place is more crowded.”

Ludger shrugs and starts to speak, but Jill cuts him off, “New place opened up just down the road, once the hype dies down, everything will return as normal.” He merely nods in reply.

“It looks awful,” Lin says, scrolling through his Facebook feed, looking at a few of his online friends that had posted photos. Namely Alvin, who he’s pretty sure doesn’t do anything but go out. He jumps a little when the phone vibrates and a banner appears at the top of the page, indicating that he had a new message on SpiritsConnect. Opening the application he saw that gaius32 was indeed online, as evidenced by a green circle.  
  
 _Gaius. Not A Very Creative Username Is It? Where Did You Get Yours?_

**_It isn’t, but it’s much nicer than ‘dtfdaddy135’ that messaged me today. Lightning Nova was a stupid spell I made up for myself when I was younger. I’ve never changed usernames._ **

A few seconds later and he heard the ping sound from the messaging inbox.

_I Like It. It Flows Quite Nicely. BTW (By The Way) What Does DTF Mean?_  
  
 _**Down to fuck?** _  
  
_We Just Met._  
  
 _**Are you trying to be funny?** _

_Perhaps. Did You Laugh?_  
  
 _**No, I’m doctoral candidate in Political Science. We don’t laugh.** _

He looks up and Jill and Ludger are both eyeing him with a look he can’t quite place, “What? You all have stupid expressions on your face,” he snaps.

“You, uh—“ Ludger starts to say.  
  
“You’re smiling,” Jill leans in close, kneeling on the table between them. She’s already drunk, from the wine earlier and (now) two vodka club sodas she’s had, her breath carrying the distinct smell of alcohol, “and you’re laughing out loud.”  
  
“Oh fuck off,” he replies, wincing a little as he downed the remainder of his wine glass like it was water, immediately going for a second. “I laugh sometimes.” Moving his iPhone away from the woman trying to scoot in next to him in the booth he checks it again but no replies. He’d be lying if he wasn’t slightly disheartened.  
  
Throwing his phone back in his bag, he figured he might as well enjoy the wine and listens to Jill idly talk about something to Ludger, the latter not able to get a word in between her erratic storytelling. Sometimes he manages to pause her long enough to help out a patron at the bar only to come back and humor her further. Lin isn’t really invested in the conversation. He keeps checking his phone and manages to finish his second and third glasses—a little more slowly this time. He chimes in every now and again with a snide remark.  
  
By the time he’s on his fourth and the clock on the wall in the back of the bar reads 12AM, he’s drunk and he tries to hide his flushed cheeks by rearranging the scarf around his neck, burrowing his face down into the soft cashmere. He keeps checking his phone, and curses himself under his breath, thinking that he shouldn’t be so invested in a conversation with a guy he met online dating. Yet, there he was, pressing the home button with his index finger every five minutes.

The front door of the bar swings open, burst of cold air entering the bar, and Lin absentmindedly looks up, frowning when the newest customers turn out to be Milla and Musee Maxwell, the both of their outfits making Jill look like she’s dressed for church. In fact, he’s pretty sure that the amount of clothing they’re wearing combined didn’t total Jill’s entire outfit.  
  
Back in his junior year of undergrad, he’d asked Milla why she insisted on wearing such revealing outfits when it was below freezing outside. She paused, thoughtful, and said, “If you merely focus your mind, it’s no longer cold. And isn’t this outfit cute? I rather like it.”  
  
He had agreed. It was indeed cute.

Digging through his bag for his cigarette carton, he tries to excuse himself to go outside and smoke, ideally slinking past the Maxwell sisters without having to engage them in conversation. They were both much too headstrong for his liking, entitled, and shared their opinions as if they were fact. However, before he was able to make his escape, they notice him burrowed into his black bomber jacket, hiding in the corner of the booth.  
  
“Glad to see you outside, Lin” Milla says, standing at the head of the low table with Musee, arms intertwined. “Nice to see you, too,” she finishes, nodding at Jill, who rolls her eyes. She wasn’t too fond of them either, and Ludger waved, springing out of his seat to start on their drinks. From what Lin remembers, Milla preferred to drink tequila on the rocks with a twist of lime and Musee enjoyed mojitos with no syrup.  
  
“Oh, Ludger honey,” Musee calls, tossing her long hair over her shoulder, “Could I get a glass of champagne instead?” He nods and she smiles, blowing a kiss in his direction.

“We were just leaving,” Lin says, standing up and taking Jill’s hand, trying to will her to listen to him. 

“Well you’re certainly not leaving now,” Musee replies, sitting down in the booth, tugging Lin down by the bottom of his jacket. He falls back against the seat, sinking into the pillows. Resigning himself to his fate, he throws his cigarettes back in his bag and grabs his iPhone, trying to distract himself from Musee’s frivolous chatter.

“Kill me,” Jill says, finishing her third vodka soda, rolling her eyes and adjusting her glasses. She motions to Ludger at the bar for another, muttering something about regretting this in the morning.

The SpiritsConnect banner at the top of Lin’s iPhone scree flashes and he pulls it down, checking his notifications:

 _Political Science? Surely With The State Of This Country, You’d Have Enough To Laugh About._  
  
Lin did, indeed, laugh.  
  
 _I Never Asked You For Your Name.  
  
 **You’re confusing laugh with cry. It’s Lin, btw (by the way). Lin Long Dau.**  
  
_ Almost immediately, he receives a reply: _  
  
_ _It’s Lovely._

He was smiling again. He could feel it on his face and when he looks up from his iPhone screen, Musee’s green-gold eyes are staring directly at him, smile playing on her lips. She leans over Lin’s shoulder and looks at his iPhone screen, reading the messages, giggling behind her hand.  
  
“Oh my, it looks like somebody’s interested in you,” she laughs, sipping her champagne. “Tell me about him, what’s his name? What does he do?”  
  
Milla leans over her sister, blonde hair falling over the seat. She’s holding her drink in her hand, careful not to spill it, “Did he reply?” She asks, trying to get a glimpse at the messages, practically throwing her self across Musee’s thighs.

In that moment, Jill’s interested, and she shoves Lin’s bag out of the way, rushing to his other side, peering at his phone over her glasses. “He? He who? You’re actually talking to someone? I can’t believe it. What’s his name?”

“Yes Lin, what _is_ his name?” Musee laughs harder, spilling a little bit of her champagne down her chest and inadvertently in Milla’s hair. She wasn’t going to be happy about her crowning glory defiled in such a manner.

Managing to push his way out of the dog pile he didn’t agree to, Lin finally stands up, fixing his hair and clothing. He’s drunker than he thought, and he has to grab the back of the booth to steady himself from the sudden change in position. “It’s nobody, and I’m not participating in these,” he pauses, “Er—shenanigans. Jill, hand me my things,” she passes his messenger bag over the table, “We were just leaving.”  
  
“Suit yourself,” Milla says, finishing her drink, setting it on the table. “But you’re going to have to talk about it sometime.”  
  
His brain is heavy and he can’t think of a proper retort so he just flips her off, drops enough cash for their drinks and a sizeable tip on the table, turns on his heel and departs, dragging Jill behind him.  
  
*

“Look at this,” Jill says when they finally arrive back at the apartment. He takes the phone from her hands, name header at the top of the text message screen reading simply ‘Al’.

 _you should come over._  
  
The text is coupled with an inappropriate photo attachment. Thankfully, still mostly clothed. The picture is classic basic white boy, a photo of him standing in his bathroom using the mirror to snap the image, iPhone logo shining in the lighting. He’s not that unattractive, Lin thinks. In fact, he ponders to himself, he’s really not that bad looking at all - well-groomed, fashion conscious, and quite fit.  
  
“God he’s hot,” Lin blurts, and the instant it leaves his lips he knew mistakes were made. “But an asshole,” he quickly adds. He really needs to find someone if he just thought about human garbage being attractive.  
  
“Isn’t he?” Jill looks at the phone again, “And strong. His favorite thing was to keep me—you know, fuck this conversation.”  
  
“Indeed. Now if only he had a halfway decent personality, but it’s consumed by his giant ego and inability to maintain meaningful relationships with others,” he says, flopping on the couch, flicking through his phone. She curls up next to him, long nails tapping on her keyboard.  
  
“What do I say?”  
  
“’Dear Asshat: Fuck off, I hope you choke on a dick’ then text, you know, one of these pictures,” he props himself up on his knees, pulls down the v on his sweater, presses his non-existent cleavage together, and bites the corner of his lower lip. “You know, like this. So he knows what he’s missing.”

Tapping the camera icon, Jill says, “Stay right there,” and the shutter sound clicks. “I’m sending that instead.” A part of his brain is telling him that his sober self in the morning is going to regret taking this photo, but a larger part of his brain tells him this is hilarious as well as a great idea.

Falling back on the cushions, he laughs. His head is spinning and his stomach turns, alerting him that he’s had far too much wine. Opening the text she sends him he replies, “Now he really knows what he’s missing. You send the message part too?”

“Yeah, he said, ‘Tell Lin I’ll take it.’ Gross,” she wrinkles her nose, clicking her phone shut. “I’m not even bothering to reply to that. Anyway, I’m headed to bed. I suggest you do the same before you pass out.”

He waves her off and snuggles into the soft material of the couch, opening his phone. Gaius is still online—even if it was nearly 2AM—and he clicks the messages, typing a reply:

**_You still up?_ **

He doesn’t want to move but he does, clutching his phone in his hand, willing his body up and forces himself off the couch, stretching and yawning. The room is swirling and he steadies himself on the arm of the sofa, haphazardly taking off his sweater and tossing it on the floor, and yanks off his jewelry, leaving it on the entertainment center. He’s normally a tidy person, but right now he couldn’t care any less, and stumbles into the bathroom to splash his face with water and try to brush his teeth without choking.

His phone vibrates.  
  
 _Yes, I Have Quite A Bit Of Work To Prepare For Tomorrow. Having A Nice Night?  
  
_ Lin shuts off the faucet on the sink, and wipes his face and hands with a towel before reaching for his phone.  
  
 ** _Instead of drinking at home in my pajamas like I wanted, I had to go out. It was awful._**  
  
He’s thankful autocorrect fixes the shitty mistakes he was making while typing, and trips over his own feet as he makes his way to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

_Oh No, And Spend Time With People? Dreadful._  
  
 **_You don’t understand. These people ARE dreadful.  
_ **

Biting the corner of his lip, he pauses and contemplates for a moment before typing another message.  
  
 ** _Hey do you have Snapchat?_**

_Snap Chat? Oh Yes, I Believe My Secretary Installed That._

**_Add me, it’s lightning-nova._ **  
  
_How?_

Lin massages his temples and types out detailed instructions, praying that they actually made sense to the technologically impaired man. He’s so detailed, in fact, that he’s short of just sending over screencaps.

 _Oh, Thank You. I Believe I Have Added You.  
  
 **Nice job, you did it.**_ He pauses momentarily before deciding to take the plunge and adding the next line. **_Take a photo of yourself. You know what I look like, it’s only fair. Unless you’re scared._**

 _Alright. I Suppose I Can Do That._  
  
A couple of minutes later he sees the red square at the bottom indicate one new message. There’s a moment of hesitation and his thumb hovers over the notification, stomach lurching from the alcohol and his nerves. Tapping it lightly he sees ‘gaius32’ on his contact list at the top. What if he’s ugly, he thinks, or really not what he’s looking for. Furthermore, what is he looking for? It’s only been a few days, so he could let him down easily enough, right?  
  
Working up enough courage, he opens the image and he’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol when his heart skips a beat because that kind of thing doesn’t actually happen in real life, right? The picture isn’t the best quality, the room is dark and the photo is just slightly blurry, but it doesn’t detract from how _attractive_ he is, and Lin is shocked.  
  
Gaius has a stoic expression and his hair is slightly past his collarbone, as black as the darkness around him. His eyes are a deep rosy color, and his skin a rich shade of brown. Across his left arm he has a tribal tattoo, which winds from his shoulders down to the middle of his forearm, and he’s unbelievably toned. He’s ridiculously attractive, Lin doesn’t even fight the heat he can feel on his cheeks, and he’s rendered speechless for a moment before the banner at the top of his phone indicates a new message.

 _Did It Transmit? As You May Have Gathered I’m Not The Best With Technology.  
  
_ “God yes,” Lin breathes, and he scrambles to screenshot the picture before it disappears completely, white flash across the screen.  
  
 ** _That’s not really you, is it?_** There’s a part of him that wants it to be a model he found in a magazine or a friend or something because the way that his body is reacting is embarrassing and Lin doesn’t want to think that he might actually want someone he met on the internet.  
  
 _It Is. I Think Now It’s Your Turn, Right?  
  
_ ** _You’re fucking gorgeous._**

_You’re Quite Striking Yourself. I Thought You Were A Model At First._

Lin is absolutely not blushing. He refuses to think that he’s blushing. There’s no possible way that he could be blushing over something a stranger on SpiritsConnect.com said. That’s absolutely ridiculous.  
  
He figures he owes Gaius a photo now, but he’s self-conscious and he worries that he’s out of Gaius’ league, even if he was just told he was attractive. Opening the Snapchat application, he angles the camera and tilts it toward his body, ebon hair falling over one eye, and he adjusts the blond streak in his hair, trying to get it to lay right against his forehead. He’s still shirtless, but Gaius sent him a shirtless picture too, so he thinks that it’s appropriate, right?  
  
Snapping the photo, he adjusts the seconds so it only appears for six seconds.  
  
 ** _Did you get it?_**

 _I’m Not Sure How To Open It. I’m Trying But Nothing Is Happening. Maybe You Can Call Me And Talk Me Through It?  
  
_ Call him? He thinks to himself and suddenly the heat is back on his cheeks.  
  
 ** _Right this very moment?_  
**

 _Perhaps Tomorrow. I Do Need To Sleep Sometime. I Never Remember My Phone Number, I’ll Message It.  
  
 **Okay, sure. Yeah that sounds fine. Alright.**_ He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s nervous.  
  
 _I’ll Speak With You Tomorrow, Lin. Good Night._

 ** _Yeah, good night._**  
  
Clicking his phone shut, he lies against his pillows and closes his eyes. Somehow, he’d passed the point of no return in only two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter 4 will be posted next week, probably before the weekend at this rate. And the week after Thanksgiving look forward to more Gaiwin fluff!


	4. Reindeer Tail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted early for Thanksgiving! I'm suuuuper busy these next few days (mostly playing video games in my pajamas) so I wanted to make sure I didn't forget about it.
> 
> This kid really needs a handler, smh.
> 
> And Leia and Ivar are the cutest.

Spending time in the research facilities wasn’t Jude’s idea of the best way to enjoy the first Monday of winter vacation, Jude thinks to himself as he tirelessly scrolls through data on the computer, looking for data points to analyze for Milla’s thesis. She wasn’t going to be done by the time she graduated, but she’s already accepted a research fellowship with the university in addition to a position as Taurus Energy’s leading researcher. Graduation for her was still quite a few years away.  
  
Ever since he was small, she’d been an inspiration to Jude. They’d grown up in the same area, and she attended his schools, years ahead of him in wisdom, age, and experience. Milla had been a natural leader, born to guide people to their proper paths, and in high school she was elected student body president, beginning her sophomore year in addition to the plethora of other activities she engaged her self in. Her dedication to whatever goals she assigned herself was (and still is) amazing.  
  
Even still, Jude wants to become half the person she is, and becoming her research partner had been a fantastic opportunity, even just to see her work. As soon as he’d been accepted into her university, Milla had offered him the spot and without a moment’s hesitation he’d taken the chance, knowing that whatever the outcome, she trusted him enough to take a risk on his partnership.  
  
Behind him, he hears the door swing open and he looks over his shoulder, adjusting the lapel of his lab coat to see who’s visiting. Of course, it would be just his luck to have Arst Outway as his visitor, the Chief Executive Officer of the entire Taurus corporation, black and red accented suit a striking contrast to his features.

“Jude, I’m glad you’re here. Is Ivar around?” He asks, shutting the door behind him, clicking the lock. Jude raises an eyebrow, and opens his mouth to say something but shook his head instead. Arst had been a primary voice in facilitating the research relationship between the university (and ultimately Milla Maxwell’s work) and his own company, a focus of their projects centered on environmentally-sound products and innovation.  
  
“Ivar went home for the holidays, remember, sir?” He replies, clicking through the tabs on his computer, transferring the data into an Excel spreadsheet. Being a researcher was less glamorous than he imagined, more mundane if anything.

“Right, right,” he rocks back and forth on his feet and something is visibly off about Arst, who normally presents himself with an air of supremacy, the master of whatever domain he’s present in. “Would you mind showing me how to work something?” He pulls his phone from the inner lining of his suit jacket and removes a glove to type on the screen.  
  
Jude’s confused but doesn’t question, and slides off his stool, feeling inferior standing next to Arst. He’s tall and well-built, truly an exemplary figure of authority. “Sure, what is it?” he asks, peering at the screen. Arst’s lock screen is a photo of him and his sister Karla in Disneyland, Mickey Mouse ears perched on top of his head, and the home screen is a refined bonsai plant.

“How do I work Snapchat?” He opens the yellow icon and the red notifications at the bottom indicate two pending snaps. “I tried to open the photo but it just shakes and I don’t understand.”

 _He can’t be serious_ , Jude thinks to himself, and he gestures for the phone, holding it in his hand, “You need to press and hold to view a photo, Mr. Outway. Like this,” he presses his thumb on the username ‘lightning-nova’ and his eyes widen as soon as the image opens, a (very) shirtless picture of his former political science teacher appearing on the screen. He nearly drops the phone in surprise, fumbling as he catches it in his hands.  
  
“Oh, I see what I was doing wrong,” Arst replies, plucking the phone away from Jude’s hands. “Thank you, Jude.”

“S-Sure, uh, anytime, sir,” he squeaks, completely mortified he somehow saw a picture of Lin Long Dau without a top on. Against his better judgment he asks, “So um, are you two, uh, are you two dating?”

Arst unlocks the door and looks thoughtful for a moment, “Not yet, no. We just exchanged phone numbers. I would love to have him accompany me to our company’s New Years Celebration, but I think that meeting the entire company might be too much for the first date.” He pauses and turns around on the heel of his dress shoes, “What do you think?”  
  
“I-I don’t know. I don't know much about relationships, sir.” It was honest, he thinks. The last ‘relationship’ encounter he had was sleeping with a stranger after drinking cheap vodka, so there was that small hurdle in the mess of his personal life. “But probably. I think I’d be pretty intimidated.”  
  
“I see,” he nods, and looks down at his phone, frowning. “Well, I’ll be out of town visiting Karla, perhaps I could invite him for a proper date when I return on Sunday? I think I could do that,” Arst mutters to himself, opening the door of the laboratory, stepping outside and staring at his phone the entire time. Jude’s a combination of horrified he saw a snap he wasn’t meant to see and happy for him as he turns back to his work.  
  
He steps over to the filing cabinet and pulls out some documents relating to the last project Ivar was working on before he left on vacation. Setting the Manila folder on the counter, he opens the file and sees a bright pink sticky note on the cover page.  
  
_PHONY! Only I, Ivar, have the ability to comprehend the NATURE of this project._

Sighing heavily, he plucks off the sticky and absentmindedly sticks it to his monitor, thinking it’ll be motivation to finish his project and he reads over the documents Ivar left behind, typing some numbers into his computer. He flips to the next page and notices a similar note.

 _You’re still reading PHONY? I told you, I’m the best.  
  
_ Turning the next few pages, he notices that Ivar’s left notes on nearly all of the file’s papers and rubs his temples, deciding that he’ll finish the project tomorrow when he has enough time to deal with Ivar’s ridiculous competitive nature. For now, he sends a text:  
  
**_how long did it take you to add all those stickies? there’s got to be an entire pack._**

He receives a reply almost instantly.  
  
_HA! I knew they would vex the likes of YOU!_

*  
  
At the moment, it’s already 4pm and he was supposed to meet Milla at the coffee shop nearly an hour ago, but lost track of time arguing with Ivar over what data he was allowed to use and what data he was not allowed to use. The entire conversation took much longer than it needed to and by the time they settled their differences, it was already 3:30pm and took nearly thirty minutes to get back to campus.  
  
Finally stepping off the red line for his university, he briskly walks to the coffee shop closest to the student union. There’s at least seven he’s aware of, maybe even as many as ten coffee shops on and around campus, not including the dining halls. The preferred shop is the one Leia works at, and he checks his phone for the time before pushing through the doors of the shop, scent of cinnamon, espresso, and pastries assaulting his senses.

Milla is easy enough to spot, and she’s tucked into a corner reading on her Kindle, hot tea sitting on the table in front of her. She peeks over the top of her tablet and gives him a look that’s somewhere between ‘glad you’re alive’ and ‘you better explain why you’re an hour and half late’ and goes back to reading. Offering a slight wave, he gets in line, trying to decide between ordering a holiday drink or just something with a ton of caffeine.

“Either deicide or step out of line, lover boy,” Nadia snaps, standing at the register with one hand on her hip, the other tapping the counter with a permanent marker  
  
“Sorry,” he apologizes, flushing when he realizes he didn’t know that it was his turn, “I was trying to decide between getting something festive or just something that has a ton of caffeine. Any recommendations?” Jude tries to be nice to her because Leia seems to like her, but it didn’t matter what he said or did. They never seemed to get along very well.

“Well,” she’s thoughtful for a moment, “The Peppermint Mocha is my favorite out of all of the holiday offerings, but if you want caffeine, just get a shot of espresso in some coffee. Either way,” she shrugs, “I’m making a point to screw up your order, so hurry up and decide.”

Jude sighs, “I guess the Peppermint Mocha, then. Might be a surprise?” He laughs a little and she stares back, deadpan expression on her face.  
  
“The pimple’s going on break in five,” Nadia jerks her thumb to Leia, who’s draining the contents a coffee urn. Leia smiles and waves. “So she’ll meet you. Now get out of my line.”

“Right, okay,” he nods and waits for his drink, finally grabbing it off the bar and makes his way to the back corner where Milla’s leaning on her arm, staring intently at her Kindle.  
  
“What’d you decide on?” She asks, clicking the next arrow on her e-reader.  
  
Jude frowns and opens the top of his drink, checking the contents, “I’m not sure.” The chocolate drizzle on top of the foam is shaped like a crudely drawn skull and crossbones and he crinkles his nose when he takes a sip. Definitely sugar free, probably decaffeinated too.  
  
Milla straightens and closes the cover on her Kindle, tossing it back in her purse, adjusting the tea bag in the side of her cup. She’s semi-bundled up for once, low-hanging scarf on top of a sweater and cardigan, blonde hair curled around her face. “How far did you get today?”  
  
“Ah, I did most of the tasks on the checklist you left for me. I haven’t started on integrating Ivar’s data—you know he left sticky notes for me on every single page telling me to keep my ‘meddling nose’ out of his research?”  
  
“Sounds like Ivar,” she laughs and takes a sip of her tea. For a few moments longer, Jude’s able to discuss the findings and results of the data he’d been running earlier before Leia joins them, streak of caramel drizzle down her cheek.  
  
“Work has been crazy town today! I was supposed to go on lunch ages ago. You know, at 3PM when we agreed to meet. Good thing you were late, Jude,” she says, popping the lid off her drink, letting it cool off. She has a cheese danish on a plate next to her and it’s already cut up into tiny bite sized squares. She never did like eating anything that wasn’t finger food. “Anyway, how’s it going with you two?”  
  
Milla shrugs and steals a few pieces of Leia’s pastry, “I have one more class I need to finish administering the final exam for, but otherwise I’ve just been focused on my dissertation research.”

“All my classes are finished too,” Jude replies, “I’m just working until I have to go home for Christmas. Oh, I think I finally fixed next semester’s schedule this morning because of that stupid computer, statistics whatever university requirement, did you manage to fix yours?”

Leia nods, “Yeah I did, all my English classes are set and I made Lin promise if I took his class he wouldn’t fail me. But I’m taking your same computer class,” In that moment, Jude recalls the Snapchat from earlier, and his face grows warm, thinking about how awkward and uncomfortable he had felt in that moment. Milla and Leia are prattling on about academics when he interrupts their conversation.  
  
“Wanna hear a weird story?” Jude blurts, cheeks flushing from his rudeness, “Sorry, I just remembered something that happened this morning.”  
  
Milla raises an eyebrow, “Alright, fine. What is it?”  
  
“So this morning, Mr. Outway came in with his phone, right, and asked me to help him with Snapchat. When I went to show him how to open a Snap, it was, well—“  
  
“Lin is my guess,” Milla replies, not looking up from her phone, “You really shouldn’t gossip, it’s not productive.”  
  
“Yeah Jude,” Leia chimes in, cheeks round and stuffed with danish, “it’s none of our business. I can’t believe you.”  
  
“Wait, so I’m the bad guy?” Jude asks, and all he receives in response is a simultaneous shrug from both of his companions. “Two days ago neither of you would stop with questions about where I was on Friday night!”  
  
Chuckling behind her hand, Milla says, “Yes, but that was hilarious.”

*  
  
The rest of the week progresses without a hitch and Jude was finally able to integrate Ivar’s data in with his own, despite the objections he received via text messaging every single day that somehow he was going to add something in incorrectly. Most of the research team had already started their holiday vacations as Jude dreaded his own, hoping that he’d somehow managed to avoid disappointing his father this time he came home.

Well, technically, he probably _had_ disappointed his father last weekend, but there was definitely no way of him finding out and Jude didn’t want to think too much about it either because quite frankly, the whole situation was something that made him uncomfortable. There are quintessential things you should do as a college student and then things you should never do as a college student and somehow all of his actions fell into the latter category.  
  
In fact, he reassures himself that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying college life and Alan-whatever has probably already moved on, so it’s a big surprise to Jude when he receives a text in the middle of packing to return home to his parents house. It’s from an unknown number, but there’s no question who it’s from:

 _You know… you left your tail over here_ (Winking emoji included).

He vaguely wonders when he gave his number to the guy he met at the party, but shrugs thinking that he can’t really remember anything that happened that night, so it probably did happen, in theory. After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.  
  
Chewing on the corner of his lip, he adds a new contact “Party Guy” and pauses for a moment before responding.  
  
**_keep it. consider it a memento._**  
  
Tossing his phone on his bed he continues packing his suitcase, trying to get as much warm clothing as possible. It’s cold in the city, definitely, but his parents live upstate where there isn’t any insulation provided by the concrete buildings and towering skyscrapers. He’s leaving with Leia in the morning, but the train ride isn’t too bad and offers free wifi, so that’s a bonus.

He pauses in the middle of folding his jeans when his phone lights up.  
  
_Cuter when you’re wearing it_  
  
Part of him wanted to groan at the ridiculous statement, but a greater part of him actually likes the attention and he smiles a little, reading the message over a few times, thinking of the most appropriate way to reply. He decides that there isn’t really an appropriate way to flirt with the nameless guy you slept with last weekend in a drunken stupor.

**_what do you want to see me in it again?_ **

He can’t believe he typed that. He clicks his phone shut and walks over to the bookshelf, setting it on top of several large volumes thinking ‘out of sight, out of mind’ and focuses on stuffing his down jacket into the front pocket of his bloated suitcase.  
  
Leia had always teased him for over packing. When they left together for university, Jude had at least three times as much “stuff” as she did, and even had additional boxes shipped to his dorm before he arrived at the school. It was difficult to fit it all in his tiny space but somehow he managed. Leia came over pretty frequently to borrow things she conveniently didn’t think about when planning a move to the dorms, like a handheld vacuum. She didn’t even remember to bring a microwave or hotplate and Jude often found her eating on his sofa watching movies on his small flat screen. Sometimes, he regretted giving her a key.  
  
There’s the soft sound of buzzing behind him and tries to ignore his phone, getting his carry-on ready, neatly fitting his laptop in his backpack with a couple of next semester’s textbooks—just so he could start on the readings ahead of time. Eventually as he’s placing his charger in its holder, curiosity gets the best of him and he wanders over to his shelf to get his phone. There’s three unread messages. 

Two from “Party Guy”:  
  
_Haha maybe… that doesn’t sound like the worst option_

 _You should come over and grab it_  

There’s a few options. Option one, he ignores the text and pretend like he fell asleep, apologizes in the morning, and silently prays that he doesn’t get another message. Option two, he replies and says thanks, but no thanks and continues on as if nothing happened. And option three, fuck the voice in his head telling him ‘no’ and go over and get it. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.  
  
Mulling over his options, he checks the third text on his device from Milla.

_It’s 18+ night at Rouge, come down. Ludger’s here._

If he were being honest, he wasn’t sure why Ludger was always an incentive to visit Rouge, but everyone else around him seemed to understand the bartender’s appeal so he accepted it.  
  
Thinking for a moment, perhaps too quickly, he replies to Milla first.  
  
**_can’t, early train ride tomorrow back home. i’m packing tonight._**

Opening his other message conversation, he stares at it before replying.  
  
**_sure, it’s not too far from here._**

*

He isn’t sure if it’s his naïveté or his stupidity that made him decide to walk to a stranger’s house to pick up a reindeer tail in the middle of winter, but here he is, approaching the lobby of the towering building, stepping inside, warm lighting and delicious smell of spiced apple cider enveloping him. There’s a part of Jude that knows it’s not about the tail at all, and when he thinks about that prospect, his stomach lurches a little and his he’s nervous.  
  
So he tries his best not to think about it and just focus on getting an item he forgot back from somebody. A somebody he might’ve gone home with. A somebody he couldn’t remember the name of when he looked at the long list of residents on the callbox. The receptionist is giving him copious side eye and he sheepishly smiles and waves. She taps her fingernails against the counter and he diverts his attention back to the callbox.  
  
His name starts with an A. That much he’s for certain. Or, well, he was mostly certain. Certain enough. But it isn’t enough and the names are arranged by last name. Finally giving up he decides to just ask the receptionist.  
  
Walking over to the counter she stares at him, “Can I help you?”  
  
He’s about to reply but his phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down.  
  
_It’s under Svent_  
  
“Uh, no. No ma’am, sorry for troubling you,” he replies. She raises an eyebrow but returns to her computer. He makes his way back to the callbox and notices “Svent, Alfred V.” and he’s thankful that he actually has a name for the face that’s still kind of blurry in his memory.   
  
Pressing the button, a high-pitched sound comes from the speakers, and the doors to the elevator slide open. Jude thinks it’s on the top floor, but he’s not confident and he glances at the phone just to check and see if he received any other helpful texts. Of course, nothing.  
  
The doors slide open and he glances down the hallway, eternally grateful for the plaques on each door with the residents’ last names. Finally he stops at the appropriately marked tile and rings the buzzer, nervously tugging on the bottom of his jacket.  
  
The door opens and Alfred’s standing in well-tailored jeans and his scarf hangs untied over his buttoned shirt, open to the middle of his chest. He’s much more attractive than Jude remembered, his brown hair framing his handsome face, five o’clock shadow just starting to come in, and holy _shit_ it’s going to be more difficult to just grab his costume and leave than Jude thought.  
  
“Glad you found it,” he says, doing a mock salute.  
  
“Yeah it wasn’t, uh, it wasn’t too bad Al—,” he trails off, Alfred doesn’t sound quite right but neither does anything else.  
  
“—vin. Jude, right?”

He nods in reply. Alvin gestures him inside, and the apartment is much more immaculate than he remembered, furnishings bright and shiny with newness, large entertainment center housing the latest video game consoles and flat screen television. The kitchen’s off to the left, and in the back there are a set of minimalist spiral stairs that presumably lead to the bedroom. Alvin’s holding a lowball glass in his left hand, dark grey whiskey stones in a rich amber liquid.  
  
There’s something about the way the man moves, shirt tight against his biceps, muscular thighs straining against his jeans that’s affecting Jude far more than it should be. Sure he technically _knew_ this guy, but he didn’t _know_ him at all and he was silently cursed his body for telling him otherwise.  
  
“Well, as promised, here’s your tail,” Alvin laughs, tossing it in Jude’s direction walking over to the living room, and he fumbles, barely catching it in his hands. The tail’s soft and has a small clip on the end he used to attach to his shorts at the party last weekend and he pinches the fur between his finger tips keeping his eyes firmly down. He doesn’t care about the tail. He knows Alvin doesn’t care about it either, the way he’s standing close, smell of scotch on his heavy on his breath.  
  
Jude wills himself to look up and whatever rational part of his brain was left is gone now and all he can think is how his gorgeous his eyes are, deep brown, almost red, fire burning in his irises.

Pushing some of Jude’s black hair from his face, Alvin breathes, “You’re just as pretty as I remember,” and leans down, brushing their lips together. By this point there isn’t anything Jude’s mind could say to convince him this is a bad idea, and he kisses back, wrapping his arms around his neck, standing on his tiptoes. The taste of scotch burns Jude’s lips and tongue - he can feel the aftertaste of alcohol hit the back of his throat and it tingles in a way he wasn’t aware he liked.  
  
Alvin leans down and drops his glass on the coffee table, dragging Jude on top of him as he collapses into the armchair. Jude’s thighs wrap around his hips and he hasn’t moved the placement of his arms, still tightly gripping his broad shoulders. Jude vaguely registers that this is turning him on way more than he anticipated and he pushes his tongue harder, savoring every moment between them.  
  
Pulling apart, panting and heaving, chest rising up and down quickly, Alvin shoves Jude’s coat off his body, running his hands up his college t-shirt, nails dragging along the ridge of his spine. He moves to bite and suck at Jude’s neck and Jude buries his face in the top of Alvin’s hair, gripping the back of the armchair, fingers wrapping into the leather material.  
  
It’s painful when Alvin’s teeth dig into his flesh, but he doesn’t hate it, and allows Alvin’s name to roll off his tongue, disappearing into the spacious living room. The man’s hands travel from his waist to the band of his pants and he slides his fingertips underneath the material, laughing into Jude’s neck.  
  
“You’ve got a great ass, you know,” he murmurs, and Jude grabs him by the cheeks, aggressively forcing their lips together, running his tongue along Alvin’s lower lip before nipping at his skin.  
  
His hands have almost completely made it into Jude’s pants when across the room Jude hears his phone, loudly ringing against the stark walls. At first, he ignores it and figures whoever it is can leave a voicemail, but when it rings a second and a third time, he breathlessly pulls away, somehow extracting himself from the tangle of limbs and clothing that was half on and half off. He’s not thinking very clearly, still hard in his pants, and clicks open his phone to check his missed calls.  
  
Milla Maxwell (3) – 11:47 PM  
mobile  
  
Just when Jude’s about to return her call, resting the phone against his shoulder and ear and buttoning his pants, his phone dings, alerting him of a new text message.

 _Where are you? I’m at your dorm. I wanted to give you your gift.  
  
_ He panics for a second, trying to think of a good excuse.  
  
**_i left my wallet in the library when i was studying earlier, just went to grab it. be back soon._**

It’s weak.

“I gotta go,” Jude replies, fixing the hem of his shirt and running his fingers through his unruly hair. He picks up his coat off the floor, and Alvin stands up, stretching, last button on his shirt coming completely undone. Jude watches him with interest, trying to shove vulgar thoughts from his hormone-addled brain.  
  
Alvin guides Jude to the door and for a moment they both stand there, unsure of what to say, door open to the hallway outside. Finally, Alvin says, “I’ll text you, have a good Christmas.”  
  
“Thanks. You too,” He stands on his tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek before making his way to the elevator.  
  
*  
  
“Come on Jude!” Leia’s standing in the living room, her suitcase by her leg and her backpack strapped on as she crosses his arms, “We need to leave in five minutes if we’re going to make our train in time, I can’t believe you over slept again.”  
  
“Sorry, sorry. Look, I packed last night. It’ll be fine,” Jude sleepily replies, stumbling from his bedroom to his bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He grips the edge of the porcelain sink and turns on the water to wash his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Frowning, he straightens and rubs his eyes, still heavy with sleep, just to make sure his vision is accurate. He runs his fingers over a large purple and red bruise on the front of his neck, just to the right of his voice box, and groans.  
  
Now that was going to be fun explaining to his parents. Picking up his phone, he sends a quick text:  
  
**_my neck thanks you for the present._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Clearly I'm not even close to posting on Sundays anymore. But they'll be posted roughly seven days apart, haha.


	5. Valentino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I don't really have a lot to say about this one. It's pretty goddamn cute though. 
> 
> I've already addressed that I can't update on a regular schedule, so there's that.

As promised, Lin called Gaius the morning after their conversation to help him with Snapchat, but somehow they never quite made it there. He was surprised at how natural talking to the other felt, and pleasantly surprised that his voice matched his appearance, deep and slightly hushed over the receiver.

It felt like they talked about everything. They talked about how he has a sister named Karla who works as a history teacher at a junior high school and how she lives further north—about four hours by train or an hour by flight. He was planning on visiting her for Christmas this year and they traded off on visits. Last year he’d tried cooking but wrecked it pretty badly, and they spent the day in pajamas eating delivery pizza.  
  
He has a tortoiseshell cat named Aurora. One day she showed up at his office building and when he left for the evening, she’d always be waiting in the same place. Eventually she followed him and jumped into his Aston Martin. Also, he _owned_ an Aston Martin, which Lin thought was insane.   
  
And Gaius told him about how he used to be a social activist in college, where he met his closest friend and current business partner, Ortega. How they used to stage demonstrations against the administration or local political groups and brought about great change in the community, eventually earning the nickname “Gaius” as a joke that he led people like a Roman Emperor. When he wasn’t busy protesting, he majored in global politics with a minor in human rights and earned his MBA a few years later.

Lin told him about how his father left him with a lot of money and three power-hungry uncles that tried as hard as they could to take it away from him. About how his closest childhood friend, Nils, had died in high school, and he spent a long time trying to avoid forming any more personal relationships – until he met Jill, at least.  
  
He talked about how he had converted the third bedroom in his apartment into a second wardrobe because closet space in his own was starting to overflow. Gaius happened to be browsing his Lookbook on the other end of the receiver and asked if he ever wore anything other than black. Lin told him that the first lesson about fashion was, put simply, the color black.  
  
And he told him he’s a Political Science doctoral candidate, that his dissertation is almost finished and his defense is next semester, which he isn’t looking forward to but knows that he’s done a good job. Gaius asked to read it once it’s finished and it made Lin’s stomach knot, but he agreed.  
  
They decided to meet after Christmas, on Sunday the 28th, for brunch. Presently, it’s about seven in the morning and most of his vacation has been spent recovering from wine hangovers until noon where he’d move from the bed to the couch and watch Netflix with Jill until 3ish when they deemed it was acceptable to start drinking. They went out a few times, but Jill was more reluctant since Ludger was away for the holidays visiting his brother Julius. It’s a far cry from the rigid schedule he normally keeps during the semester, and for that he’s thankful.  
  
He stares at the ceiling and tries to go back to sleep a few times, but he’s nervous, and starts wondering how early he’ll need to leave to avoid the inquisition from Jill if he’s dressed and leaving the apartment for a reason other than a trip to the corner store.  He decides that if he’s meeting Gaius at ten thirty, he’ll leave by nine and take the metro. Driving would be too suspicious.

Finally, Lin wills himself out of bed and shuffles through his morning routine somewhere between excitement and a complete wreck. Fear isn’t something he’s ever been used to. He debates for awhile on how formal he should be and eventually gives up and decides that he’s just going to pick what he wants to wear. After all, fashion isn’t about dressing for others.  
  
But he finds himself changing; thinking that maybe he shouldn’t look _too_ much like he wandered off the pages of a Shibuya street snap and picks something a little more formal. He checks his iPhone. 8:35. So he swaps his outfit for another one, more like the first one but with a little bit of a refined flair. It doesn’t suit him. Lin changes three more times before realizing he’s in the same outfit he picked in the first place and when his phone buzzes alerting him it’s 9AM, he figures he’ll just go with it.

Before leaving, Lin writes a quick note to Jill on their whiteboard.  
  
 ** _Went to meet a friend for—_**

And he erases it. She knows he doesn’t have any other friends.  
  
 ** _Decided to catch up on research in the library. Be back—_  
  
** Again, he erases the message. He might as well write, ‘I’m lying.’ At least that’d be the truth.  
  
 _ **Fitting for my Valentino suit. Be back this afternoon.** _  
  
At least that was believable.  
  
*  
  
He arrives early but not too much ahead of time. He’d forgotten that the connecting stop on the orange line was closed and had to backtrack to get on the correct line. It works in his favor, he supposes, as he had forgotten his iPad Mini sitting on the dining table, so he didn’t have anything to keep himself occupied with in the meantime.  
  
The building is easily recognizable. He’s been there many times for the bottomless bubbles brunch with Jill (and, a few unfortunate times, Alvin) and reminds himself to limit his intake. Treat it with a gentle hand and fear it. There was nothing worse than getting wasted at an expensive restaurant with some guy you’d only started talking to two weeks ago. It was easy to get carried away when the waiter opened a new bottle as soon as you finished your last.  
  
Checking his phone, he has a new message and checks the time: 10:25. Perfect. Lin liked showing up right on time. Early was pretentious and late was rude. Stepping into the lower level of the high rise, he feels his face grow increasingly warm. The last time he was on a date was nearly two years ago and he hadn’t even liked the guy that much. In fact, he couldn’t really recall ever liking the people he forced himself to go out with. This was certainly a first.  
  
Tapping the messages button, he opens to his new notification:

_The Line For The Valet Is Ridiculous. It’s Under Outway._

Lin pauses. He isn’t sure why that name sounds so familiar, but puts it out of his mind and replies.  
  
 ** _Okay, I’ll be seated._**  
  
He isn’t sure whether he’s flattered or scandalized that the hostess recognizes him from his previous visits but doesn’t dwell on it for too long—there was much more at stake in the present. The table is located by a window and Lin can see passerby walking up and down the streets of the city. He figures that he has a small window to relax and tries to figure out what he wants to order before Gaius arrives.  
  
“Lin?” He jumps in his seat and looks up, peeking out from the top of the menu. Gaius is impeccably well-dressed, long black hair framing his handsome features, eyes glowing with authority and _fuck_ the blurry Snapchat photos don’t even do this man a shred of justice. Suddenly, he can’t think of anything to say.  
  
That is, until he spots the insignia on his coat. “You’re wearing a Brioni suit. That’s quite an impression to make.”  
  
“Did it work?” Gaius asks, sliding into the seat opposite Lin.  
  
“A little,” he replies, scanning over the single sheet of the menu, trying desperately not to seem, well, desperate. Of course it worked. Lin knows it worked and he knows how perfect his torso looks in the impeccable tailoring of the jacket. He knows how the pants hug his hips and thighs and how he’s finding it difficult to reign in his thoughts.  
  
The waitress comes by and gives the usual speech about the specials, asking if they preferred mimosas or just champagne. They both prefer champagne. He was concerned Gaius might like mimosas, but thankfully that wasn’t going to be a problem down the road. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about ‘down the road’ so he ignores the thought and shoves it from his brain.

When she returns, Gaius orders banana nut pancakes with candied pecans and extra Chantilly cream. It sounds much too sweet and saccharine for Lin’s taste and it surprises him, but figures he isn’t the one eating it and orders a salad.   
  
“You don’t look quite like your photos, you know,” Gaius says, adding several cubes of sugar and cream to his coffee, and Lin’s stomach lurches instinctively and for a moment he thinks of arguing. “You’re much more handsome in person.”

His stomach lurches again, but this time it’s for an entirely different reason and he instinctively reaches for his menu but the waitress already cleared their table. Instead he just takes an unnecessarily long gulp of champagne. “Thanks,” Lin pauses and lowers his glass, “… You’re better than I was expecting.”  
  
Gaius snorts, and the corner of his lips twitch into a small smile.  
  
“You know, for someone with no picture.”  
  
“As a public figure, I didn’t think it wise to post my photograph on an online dating website,” he replies, bringing the coffee cup to his lips. 

Lin narrows his eyes, “You don’t know how.”  

At this, Gaius coughs a little through his coffee, and clears his throat, “I do too.”

By the time their meal arrives, conversation has become easier, and they talk about anything that interests them in the moment. Gaius is extremely well-read and there isn’t a single book that Lin’s read this past year that he hasn’t also finished. The difference is that Lin prefers to read them on the bright screen of his iPad Mini and Gaius chooses to buy the hardback.  
  
But it isn’t just the things they have in common that keep Lin interested. In fact, there’s a lot they don’t agree on. They have different views on politics, the world, even life itself. He knows that it’s not something you’re ever supposed to discuss on the first date but there they were, arguing over minimum wage, and the way he forces him to debate to the best of his abilities is such a goddamn turn on Lin thinks Gaius could throw him over the brunch table and he wouldn’t care. He pauses for a moment and thinks to himself: fucking hell, it’s not even noon, give it a rest.  
  
“You’re not right,” Lin replies, stabbing the chamomile pavlova with his fork. He never orders dessert, but the other man had wanted it (even after those pancakes), so he had caved.  
  
Gaius taps the side of his crème brûlée dish with his spoon before pointing it at Lin, “But I’m not wrong either.”  
  
He’s infuriating and strong and handsome and so damn near _perfect,_ and there isn’t a single thing that would stop Lin from agreeing with the next thing that came out of his mouth.

Continuing to tap the side of his bowl he asks, “Do you want to go—“

“Yes.”  
  
“—take a walk? There’s this nice area not too far from here.”  
  
“Right, yeah,” he nods, and Lin curses himself. Despite living in the city his entire life, he couldn’t stand the cold. It was harsh, unnecessary, and quite frankly just rude what with all the snow and ice. Stupidly, he continues, “There’s ice skating there too, I think. We could go?”

Gaius smiles and Lin’s flush is starting to creep back from his ears to his cheeks, “Sounds wonderful.”  
  
*  
  
The rink is just down a slope in a small park. It’s a good size for a decent amount of people and isn’t nearly as crowded as the rink in the center of the city. There’s Christmas lights suspended on ropes above the ice and in the distance Lin spots a large Christmas tree standing tall underneath the grey sky.  
  
They’d decided to get coffee from a small cart not too far away from their destination. He’d ordered his usual, a black Americano (hot, not iced today) and Gaius somehow managed to consume even more sweets, choosing a hot chocolate over espresso.

He grips his cup tightly in his gloved hands, buried under his coat and hat while they waited in line to rent ice skates. Lin can’t believe that Gaius can stand the below freezing temperature in nothing but a suit jacket, scarf lazily draped around his shoulders. Meanwhile, he’s covered in layers and layers of fabric and still can’t seem to stop shivering.  
  
Gaius clears his throat, “Do you, um, do you want this, perhaps?” He gestures to the scarf around his neck. “It’s decently warm.”  
  
Turning his head away, Lin mumbles, “Yeah sure.” It’s a stylish garment from a recent collection he recognizes, so he decides its fashionable enough to add to his current look. Wrapping it around his neck, he adjusts it a few times. He can smell Gaius’ cologne, robust and spiced, with notes of tarragon, geranium, and sandalwood. It’s practically intoxicating and he wonders why he didn’t notice it before.  
  
By the time they rent their skates and strap them on, Lin’s feeling less cold but more nervous as he looks out on the shallow sheet of ice. He doesn’t know how to ice skate. He never learned. The one time he tried in elementary school Nils had broken his arm before Lin had even stepped onto the rink. Since then, he’d been too terrified to ever make an attempt.

Tightly gripping the tree closest to the edge, he looks down with hesitation, gingerly placing one foot on the ice. Gaius is standing with his hands in his pocket, sliding backwards. He doesn’t seem concerned.  
  
He offers a hand to Lin, “Here, you can do it.”  
  
“I’m fine,” he replies, working up the courage to place both blades firmly on the ground. “I’ve got this,” he affirms, more to himself than anybody else. Finally, he stands without support from the tree, wobbling, barely propelling himself forward. Gaius moves next to him and skates along with ease. He tries to match his pace and before he knows what’s happening, he’s about to fall face forward before an arm wraps around his waist, heaving him upright.  
  
“I thought you said you could skate?” He asks, unhooking his arm from his waist, dusting some snow off of Lin’s jacket.

“I can,” he sniffs, “I’m just having an off day.”  
  
“I see,” is all he replies with, and starts to skate backwards. Lin mutters ‘show off’ under his breath, words emitting small puffs of white air in the chill of the afternoon. He tries again, _one foot in front of the other_ he repeats to himself, finally thinking he’s getting the hang of it, increasing his pace.  
  
“I told you I could,” Lin says, sticking his tongue out, catching up with Gaius, who merely smiles and shrugs in reply. For a moment, everything is going well. For a moment, Lin’s thrilled that he’s finally faced his fear of ice and tries to go just a little bit faster than the other man. Almost immediately, he looses his center of balance and tips backward this time, thinking briefly that this was it. But he’s rescued once again by a pair of strong arms and that irritatingly smug face that’s entirely too charming.  
  
“Yes, you’re quite talented,” he smirks, looking down at Lin. Setting him upright, he suggests, “Why don’t we hold hands—“

“—I don’t need help—“

“—not because you need any assistance. You’re adorable.”  
  
“Oh,” he gets quiet, “Sure, yeah.” He hesitates for a moment before grasping his gloved hand. It’s warm and his grip is tight. He feels a sense of security he just can’t quite place and Lin fights the smile on his lips.  
  
They skate together in silence for quite some time. When Lin stumbles, Gaius is there to keep him steady, even if he objects. Sometimes they chatter about nothing in particular. Christmas lights hanging overhead or a dog that somebody’s walking in the distance, but mostly they enjoy each other’s company, feeling of warmth from lingering so close another’s body heat. It isn’t uncomfortable in the slightest, and Lin isn’t aware of the last time he’s felt this comfortable being with someone.  
  
“I should head back,” Lin sighs after awhile, nose bright red tucked into Gaius’ scarf. “My roommate’s probably getting suspicious about my whereabouts by now.”  
  
“Snuck out?” he asks, leading them to the edge of the rink.  
  
“‘Fitting for a Valentino suit’ is what I said,” he replies, using his fingers as air quotes before removing his skates and sliding back into his boots.  
  
“I’m sure it’ll be a lovely suit,” Gaius laughs, returning their skates to the desk, “Let me drive you home. I’m sure you must be freezing.”  
  
Lin averts his gaze elsewhere, “Sure.”  
  
*  
  
The Aston Martin is as smooth and luxurious as he’d expected it to be, purring along the streets of the city in a quiet elegance. There’s an odd sense of power that came from sitting in the passenger’s seat of a car that made people turn their heads and gesture. It’s a deep red, and the dash has a plasma screen that pops up for driving directions.  
  
Leaning back against the heated leather seats, the car pulls up to the front entrance of Lin’s apartment building. It’s styled much like a hotel, with an area for valet parking and a small ramp for the underground parking garage that was (thankfully) heated to protect against the frost.  
  
“This is quite a building for a student to live in,” Gaius remarks, shifting the gear into park.  
  
“We’ve owned the apartment for generations,” he shrugs, looking at the security guard standing by the revolving glass doors. The apartment is merely one of several properties under his name, but it was by far his favorite due to its location in the heart of the school community and its proximity to his favorite restaurants.  He’s not sure what to say so he adds: “I had a great time today.”  
  
“I did too,” Gaius replies. His bangs are long and shadow his eyes just a little. Lin reaches his fingers out to move them from his eyes, bright and rosy. He leans over the center console of the car just a little and hesitates before pressing their lips together, shifting the weight of his body to wrap his hands around Gaius’ broad shoulders.  
  
Gaius kisses back, his hands cupping Lin’s cheeks, and it’s deeper than he intended, but Lin doesn’t mind one bit, sliding his tongue along Gaius’ lower lip, nipping a little at the flesh. Adjusting his weight, he shifts his position to get closer to the other man, eliminating what little space was left between the two.  
  
Finally, they pull apart, breathless, and Lin really just wants to keep kissing him. Or drag him into the back seat. Either options works fine for him.  
  
“There’s a lot of people here,” Gaius says, moving Lin’s black hair from his vision and pecking him on the nose.  
  
Lin stops for a moment and looks out the windshield, people entering and leaving from the revolving doors, residents emerging from the parking garage and patrons valeting their vehicles to enjoy the prestigious restaurant on the first floor of the building. Some look in awe at the Aston Martin and others are more focused on them.  
  
Clearing his throat, Lin slides back into his seat, “So I’ll text you?”  
  
Gaius merely smiles in reply, “I look forward to it.”

* 

Jill’s still in her pajamas when he returns, hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. She’s watching a documentary, _The Imposter_ , he thinks, based one what he can see of the television screen and he drops his keys loudly on the counter to alert that he’s entered the room. She jumps a little and peers over the back of the couch.  
  
“That was a long fitting,” she remarks, pressing the pause button on the PlayStation controller. “What did they measure you with, the ruler app on an iPhone?” Laughing, Jill stands and stretches, and the hem of her shirt raises enough that Lin can spot the jewel dangling from her navel. At the moment, it’s a set of dangling chains with jeweled paws on the ends.  
  
“No, I had to stop by and pick up something from my office at school, too,” he replies, checking the fridge out of habit. He isn’t really hungry, just wants to know what’s available, and crinkles his nose when he remembers that they haven’t gone grocery shopping in awhile.  
  
He hears her behind him, reaching a hand to grasp at something around his neck “This is new. Did you buy this today?” Jill pauses before continuing, “You aren’t wearing your usual cologne either.”  
  
Lin’s hand shoots up to Gaius’ scarf and realizes he’d forgotten to give it back. Turning around, he tries to think of something quickly, “Yeah, yeah. I just bought it. I tested something new out too, maybe a little more masculine. Mine’s a little flowery.”  
  
Jill seems to accept it and shrugs, “Well the scarf’s cute but definitely no on the perfume. Much too strong for you.” She wanders back to the couch and resumes her movie.

Lin pulls out his iPhone from his coat pocket and sends a quick message:  
  
 ** _Forgot to return your scarf. Guess you have to take me out again._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahh, thanks to everyone for reading.


	6. Private Tutoring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Leia's probably the all star of this entire story, just sayin'.

The University gave ample time off for Winter Break—well over a month, in fact. It was great for students that either a) enjoyed the extra time with their family, b) didn’t have a family to return home to, or c) decided to vacation in a beach resort in the tropics, which is where Milla and Musee had taken off to as soon as their finals were over. Jude got text updates sometimes - mostly pictures of them in their bikinis, not a speck of snow in sight on the white beaches, clear water sparkling in the background.

He spent most of his break avoiding probing questions from his parents about his career and studies, hiding in his room whenever possible. It was exactly as he left it, not a single thing out of place. In fact, the drawers he’d rifled through as he was hastily packing before moving to the city were still hanging open. Sometimes he met up with Leia and watched stupid holiday movies, but she was busy helping her parents through the holiday season at the hotel.

And sometimes he texted Alvin, still listed as ‘Party Guy’ in his phone. He learned a surprising amount about him while he lay on his parents' couch in the living room, bored out of his mind during his Christmas vacation. Jude had been left to entertain himself for the most part, since they didn’t really ever take time off. So, he figured why the fuck not. Mistakes had already been made.

Alvin had laughed about the bruise he’d left on his neck but was polite enough to tell him how to hide it with makeup, which was more than Leia had offered. She’d only vaguely mentioned something about a green concealer. At least it worked, and that was one less thing that he had to confront his parents about, though they did look at him strangely a few times.  
  
He’d learned that Alvin wasn’t from here originally, most of his family on the other side of the country. His cousin was a tenured professor at their University and encouraged him to make the most of his connections and ‘settle down a little’ from his undergrad party days. It was working, ‘sort of,’ he qualified.

Alvin said that ironically, his family was now described as ‘old money’ though back when they’d first made their fortune (though he didn’t specify in what), they were part of the Western movement of ‘nouveau riche’ individuals. Their University was home to the heirs of several powerful families, so it was nothing new for Jude. In fact, he almost felt out of place for attending based on merit.  
  
And yet somehow, despite all the conversation, every string of messages ended leaving Jude the same way: flustered and slightly aroused, wondering what he was even doing with his time off from classes. Alvin certainly had a way of steering the conversation to an inappropriate playing field.

Thankfully for Jude, the vacation doesn’t seem to drag on _too_ much and by late January he’s back at University for his first day of spring semester. For his fall classes, he’d managed to avoid having any on Tuesday and Thursday, but this time he hadn’t been so lucky: all five days and the first class back is his stupid prerequisite on statistics. Leia’s enrolled too, so he’s happy he can at least complain about it with someone else.

“Why do I even need this?” Leia complains, dropping into the open computer next to Jude. She never carries a backpack and has an armful of English textbooks and a notebook in her arms, depositing them by her mouse. Digging through her purse, she asks, “Do you have a pencil?” She wasn’t ever too prepared either.

“Yeah sure,” he hands her one from his case and logs in to the system, idly fiddling with his phone.  
  
“Thanks, I owe you one,” she replies, scribbling her name in her usual chicken scratch on the attendance sheet that’s making its way through the rows. “I see you’re turning over a new leaf. Not late today.”

“New year’s resolution,” Jude says, not lifting his eyes up from his phone screen, passing the sheet to the student sitting to his left. He checks his messages, two sitting in his inbox and one pending Snapchat.  
  
The Snap is from Ivar, a picture of a pair of sunglasses circled in red behind a display case with the caption:  
  
 _Not that YOUR opinion matters BUT y/n?  
  
_ Jude sends a quick reply: **_more square for your face shape._** **_try the ones to the left._**

One from Leia, who’s presently sitting next to him.  
  
 _r u there? D:_  
  
And finally Alvin:  
  
 _Nah… my mother didn’t teach me any french. The only thing I can say is J’ai le Tour Eiffel dans mon pantalons_

 _ **please don’t tell me you use that. that can’t actually work on anyone.**  
  
_ He throws the phone in his backpack when the professor introduces herself, half listening as he checks his school email, browsing through updates from his different student activities: Biomed Engineering Coalition, Earth Society, and the Premed Student Association. Leia’s doing the same, responding to a message from her editor for the newspaper, _The Spectator_.

“…Svent. Please direct any questions to my assistant. Today we’ll go over the syllabus and...” He’s already tuned out again, scanning the whiteboard behind her ‘TA: Alvin’ written quite clearly under her own name. He’s standing off to the side with his arms crossed, brown hair falling in his eyes, holding a stack of syllabus packets to pass out. Jude tries to squeeze himself under the desk and hide.  
  
“Psst, hey, Earth to Jude,” Leia’s elbowing him in the ribs and he winces a little in pain. She’s much stronger than she looks. He glances over at her from his monitor. “Isn’t that the guy you—“

“Shh,” he whispers, pressing his finger to his lips.

“It totally is! That is totally the guy from the—“ 

“No it’s not,” he snaps. “Now be quiet.”  
  
“Did you sleep with—“  
  
“No! Leia, I swear if you don’t quit it right now—“

“That’s not what your face says. You face says you did. Did he give you that monster on your neck too?“

“What kind of face is that?” He asks, exasperated. 

“Secrets don’t make—“ Leia pauses when she hears someone clearing their throat above her and she looks up, Alvin extending syllabus papers to the both of them. Jude tries not to make eye contact, shrinking himself under the table as much as possible.  
  
“Already causing a disturbance this early into the lecture? My, my, you really don’t know how to stay out of trouble,” he says, dropping a packet on Jude’s keyboard before walking down the rest of the aisle.  
  
Leia flips through the sheets of paper until Alvin’s out of earshot, leaning over to Jude, “Good on you,” she says, elbowing him in the side again.

He hides his face in his hands, “Just let me die already.”  
  
*

Somehow he makes it through class without too much embarrassment and Leia forces him to go to lunch with her despite his protests. She’s talking excitedly about the place they’re going to—apparently enthusiastically recommended by Ludger, Editor of _Culinary Dropout_ , the student-run food blog often featured in the newspaper.

He warns her that it’s going to be crowded. In fact, every time Ludger recommends anything on the blog, its popularity among the student body blows up to such proportion that reporters for _Culinary Dropout_ are now sponsored to write reviews for local businesses in the city. Milla mentioned once that she’d tried writing for them but gave up when she realized that she cared more about eating free food than reviewing for quality.  
  
As they make their way from the subway station to the front doors of the restaurant, Jude’s right, and the small waiting area is packed with people, most sporting university gear. Leia shoves her way to the front of the crowd and puts in their name, advised that it would only be a fifteen-minute wait, and they’d let them know when the table is available.  
  
They wait outside, breath visible against the freezing temperatures and Leia hands him an identification card, “Look what I just got.”  
  
He studies it for a little and there’s something off about it that he can’t quite place. Maybe because it used her dorm address instead of her permanent residence with her parents? Or that the picture is just a little crooked? That is until he spots:  
  
 **04/02/1992**  
  
“You were born in 1996,” he replies, handing back the card.  
  
“Well I’m not going to use my real birth year for a fake ID now am I?” She sticks out her tongue and shoves it back into her wallet.  
  
“Leia, you can get in serious trouble for that,” he chastises her, and before she’s able to reply the hostess calls their name from the doorway and they go inside to be seated. It’s an Asian-styled restaurant, and according to the sign hanging in the doorway, the best pork buns in the city. Jude finds it hard to believe, but evidently Ludger had thought so, too.  
  
They end up ordering noodles and an assortment of different filled buns to share and Jude nearly stops her when she uses her fake ID to get hot sake, but decides to just ignore it. He has other things to deal with, as he has his messages screen open, cursor flashing as he stares at the keyboard, trying to think of something to say to his (now) teacher. It wasn’t awkward before, why is it awkward now?  
  
 ** _so do i have to call you mr. svent now?_**

Jude stares at it for a long time, not noticing Leia leaning across the table, reading his messages above him and before he’s able to hit the backspace, she taps send.

“I knew it!” She cackles, plopping down into her chair. Propping her chin on her hands she continues, “It’s been like two months and I haven’t even gotten a single story. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Jude replies, throwing his phone on top of his backpack, leaning back in his seat. “I repressed myself until I eventually snapped and now I can’t stop being a disappointment to everybody around me.”

Leia sighs, “Well, the dramatics certainly haven’t changed.” She shifts in her chair, “Look, if I had a crisis every time I did something that my parents would be upset about, I’d be in a perpetual state of agony.”  
  
He doesn’t like that answer. That isn’t helping his situation. Ever since they were little she’s gotten into more trouble than he did anyway, so what did that even mean? Just then, the waitress arrives with their drinks and appetizers, and Jude hears his phone chime from underneath his feet. Reaching down, he grabs it and opens his messages.  
  
“What’s it say?” Leia asks, pouring her hot sake into a small cup, clutching it tightly in her hands.  
  
“He said: ‘Only if you’re into that’ and an emoji. You know, the one making the kissy face with a heart,” he frowns, “What do I even say to that?”

“All you need to do is say something remotely suggestive back and you’re golden. Doesn’t even matter if it’s suggestive, all men are the same,” she replies, blowing on the rim of the glass. Then, she looks up, thoughtful; “I mean, you’ve had to do something to get yourself in this situation.” 

“Not really,” Jude stares at the phone, idly eating a pork bun and pauses for a moment. Ludger’s review is indeed accurate - this is probably the best-tasting pork bun he’s ever had and he tries to focus on lunch instead of every other thought running through his head.

Leia has food shoved in a pocket of her face and she laughs, “Yeah no, you don’t just end up at a stranger’s house and _then_ meet a second time to get a bruise that looked like Australia by doing nothing.”  
  
He’s about to try and lie his way out of the conversation but stops for a second. Alvin said the same thing about its shape. Deciding to just justify his actions he replies, “I left my tail there and—”  
  
“Woah, woah. Slow down, that’s too much information.”  
  
“What? No, I just had to get it back that’s all!” Ignoring her, he looks down at his phone again and types:  
  
 ** _no, but I bet you are._**

* 

Jude isn’t sure if it was the text message response he received from Alvin ( _Only if I get to fuck you on my desk)_ or that he really had nothing more he could be doing on the first Tuesday back from classes, but he’s standing in the lobby of Alvin’s building again, the same receptionist at the front desk. The Christmas decorations have been replaced blue and white ‘winter’ themed items and in the corner there’s still hot cider available. He doesn’t even have to use the callbox, she buzzes him in without a word and he isn’t sure if he likes the feeling of being a regular.

Reaching his hand up to knock on the front door, he stops. There isn’t a crutch this time. There isn’t alcohol or a transparent ruse that he’s just there to pick something up. He went with the full, conscious knowledge that he’s going to the apartment of a guy that he’s had exclusively physical encounters with. Maybe he should leave.  
  
Alvin opens the door before he can make a decision and he remembers why he came over in the first place. He’s standing shirtless, in a pair of sweatpants with a towel around his neck, damp hair still clinging to his forehead, and Jude just stares for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Hey,” he finally breathes, and Alvin gestures him inside, shutting the door behind him. It’s as immaculate as it always is, and for the first time, Jude notices the decorations—or rather lack there of. There aren’t a lot of personal touches on the walls or in picture frames nestled in the sparsely populated bookshelves, and despite the electric fire blazing in the living room, it’s a little cold.  
  
But, for the first time, he can see the view of the city. It isn’t too early or too late at night, and the paneling is open to reveal an entire glass wall, lights of the skyline twinkling in the glowing sunset.  
  
“That’s a quite a view,” Jude says, admiring the colors of the twilight. He drops his bag near the entrance and walks to the small landing, trying to see what he can decipher from the windows.  
  
Alvin runs a hand through his hair and smirks,  “Yeah, I’m pretty easy on the eyes.”  
  
“What? Oh, no,” he replies, looking over his shoulder, twisting the bottom of his jacket in his hands, “I meant the city. But um, that’s still… that’s nice.”

“Glad to hear I’m nice,” he laughs, tossing the towel over a chair in the dining room, opening up the liquor cabinet, “You want anything?”  
  
“I’m not twenty-one,” Jude says, sitting on the couch, pulling his phone out from his back pocket, checking to see if he had any new notifications. 

There’s a new message from Leia:  
  
 _get it_  
  
That’s certainly helpful, he thinks.  
  
 ** _thanks for the confidence boost._**

A couple of seconds later his phone buzzes again.  
  
 _just b ur charming self :D_  
  
Charming self? He’s not even sure what he’s doing, let alone how to try and be remotely charming. He isn’t sure what to say, he isn’t really sure what to do. Feeling his stomach churn and his throat tighten, he’d known the moment he replied to that text and agreed to go over that there was a very clear expectation on where the night would lead.  
  
“Seriously? This isn’t the shit your friends buy,” Alvin replies, shoving a glass into Jude’s hand, “Live a little, drink the good stuff.” He drops on he sofa next to Jude and hits a button on his remote, panel sliding open, revealing his entertainment center and clicks the Netflix application on his Xbox One.   
  
Jude sips his drink with hesitation and is surprised at how it doesn’t burn like a normal vodka tonic. It’s remarkably smooth and flavorful. “What’s in it?”  
  
“Chopin. It’s not really one you mix—you’re supposed to enjoy it straight, but you don’t seem like the type,” he replies, clicking on _House of Cards_ from the menu screen. It’s a typical choice for someone like him, Jude thinks, but it isn’t a bad show, even if it’s not quite his usual taste.  
  
Alvin’s drinking a richly colored amber drink out of a brandy snifter, stem glittering with crystals. He looks natural holding the glass, fingers delicately gripping the base, and Jude’s eyes linger down his neck and chest, admiring how toned and handsome his body is even in the soft lighting of the living room. It’s the first time he’s been able to appreciate how honestly attractive he is.  
  
But even so, this man is still his teacher.  
  
“Admiring the view?” Alvin asks, smiling.  
  
“You’re my professor’s TA,” Jude replies bluntly, setting his drink on a coaster resting on the coffee table. “You could get in trouble for this.”

“Hardly, you’re eighteen. There’s nothing illegal about, well, we’ll call it ‘private tutoring’.” He picks up the controller and turns down the volume a couple of notches, turning on the couch to face Jude, pulling one leg underneath him. “You really that concerned?”

He isn’t. Jude knows that deep down he’s faking his unease with the situation because he’s scared that he actually wants this. He’s terrified of the part of himself that wants a hot someone that’s only a text away. It’s all of the fun of a relationship without any of the unnecessary details that would distract him from his studies. You know, things like sharing feelings and remembering dates and spending time together _clothed_. And he knows Alvin wants it, too.

“No,” Jude confesses and before he can stop himself he leans over and wraps his arms around Alvin’s neck, pushing their lips together, tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He tastes like brandy and Jude chuckles to himself, thinking this is the third time they’ve kissed and he’s tasted like a different liquor every single time.  
  
Alvin responds by wrapping his arms around Jude’s waist, tugging him closer to his body. He pulls back for a moment, “Good, because I don’t care either,” and resumes kissing him, teeth nipping at his tongue.  
  
Shoving the man back against the cushions, Jude puts one knee on either side of his hips and moves his lips to his neck, thinking that if _he_ was allowed to leave bruises shaped like continents on Jude’s neck, he’d return the favor. Biting down, Alvin doesn’t stop him, wrapping his fingers in Jude’s raven hair, tugging him closer to his skin. He’s moaning and his breathing is ragged and Jude loves the temporary position of power.

“Fuck, kid. You’re crazy,” he manages to say, other hand running down his back, slipping it into the band on his jeans. Jude doesn’t reply, just bites harder. The television plays in the background but neither of them are paying attention, and all it does is mask the sounds of desperation from Alvin’s throat, deep and growling, primal sound and pitch.  
  
When he thinks he’s given him a memory that’s comparable, he pulls back. “That’s payback,” Jude breathes, kissing his jawline.  
  
“Uh-huh, I see,” he replies, running his hands along Jude’s body, “What’d you say we take this upstairs. I’d love to show you the view from my bedroom while you beg on your knees.”  
  
He just nods in reply, Jude can’t think of anything to say in his haze of desperation and he pulls their bodies apart, downing the rest of his tonic, and follows Alvin up the winding, chrome stairs in the back of the apartment, too drunk on the moment to worry about the details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uwahh, thanks again! I appreciate all the nice comments. :D


	7. Shostakovich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooo Gaiwin smut.
> 
> tbh, I'm really invested on what happened at pirate night.

Cracking the door of his bedroom, Lin peeks out to see if Jill is in the living room, and just his luck, she’s sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest, laptop resting precariously on her knees. He needs to somehow make it past her and to the front door of the apartment without her noticing that he’s missing. 

He isn’t very good at sneaking around, and the last time he’d snuck out of his house, he was five and had sworn he’d seen Santa. The staff noticed he was missing well before his parents had.  But Jill is far more perceptive. Right now, she thinks he’s sick and trying to sleep it off. Not creeping by his own door in an expensive suit and maybe just a little too much cologne.

There’s still enough time before Gaius is supposed to pick him up, but Lin knows there’s no way he’s making it the short distance to the front door dressed like this to get into the passengers seat of an Aston Martin without the inquisition. She’d probably ask why he smelled like desperation before he even entered the living room.  
  
Clicking open his iPhone, he taps the iMessages icon and, against his better judgment, selects Milla Maxwell’s text thread.  
  
 ** _What’re you doing?_**

He sees the three dot bubble appear almost instantly, and for once in his life, he’s grateful for her too-quick replies.  
  
 _At Rogue, why?_

 ** _Can you do me a favor? I need you to convince Jill it’s a good idea to go to Rogue without me tonight._**  
  
 _What’s in it for me?_  
  
Naturally. She didn’t do anything for free.

**_I don’t know, whatever you want._ **

The bubble appeared a few times and then disappeared. Lin figures she’s probably trying to think of whatever will end up inconveniencing him the most.  
  
 _I was going to make you write those grant proposals, but I’ll settle with a very detailed description of your date tonight.  
  
_ Oh she couldn’t be serious. He frowns at his device.  
  
 ** _How did you know where I was going?_**  
  
 _I have my ways. Do we have a deal?_

**_I’d rather write the grant proposals._ **

_That isn’t my offer._

He could ignore her. He could walk out of his bedroom door, face the barrage of questions about where he’s going—be truthful, even—and then be on his way. But what if it doesn’t work out? Then he has to tell her that he really does suck at relationships and should probably give up. And furthermore, what if it does work out? Now that’s the scary part. The second inquisition the morning after didn’t sound like an ideal situation.

He’ll come clean in time.  
  
 ** _Fine. I agree. Try and keep her occupied until morning._**

Throwing the phone on the bed, he lies down and closes his eyes, already regretting his decision. Lin didn’t like spending time with anybody, let alone somebody he could barely stand. But about ten minutes later, there’s a faint knocking on his bedroom door and he’s thankful for Milla’s too-strong nature. She probably hadn’t accepted no as an answer.  
  
“Lin?” Jill calls through the door.  
  
He tries to make his voice sound as raspy and deep as possible, “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?”  
  
“Sorry,” she apologizes, “I was thinking of going out, you going to be okay here alone? It’s pirate night down at the bar and Ludger’s not wearing a shirt.”  
  
Lin suppresses his laughter, thinking that Milla certainly knew how to make it worth Jill’s time. She was nothing if not cunning. “Isn’t that against health code?”  
  
“Look, if you want to complain, be my guest, but I’m not passing this up,” she replies, and he can hear her footsteps disappear down the hallway to her bedroom. Laughing, he checks his phone. It’s not quite four and Gaius is supposed to pick him at five. He might’ve been a little overzealous getting ready so early.  
  
By four thirty she’s gone, and he smiles a little when he notices she’d left cold medicine, a box of tissues, and a note that she’d gone and picked up the type of soup he liked at the diner down the road, it’s sitting in the fridge, and to heat it up in the microwave for no more than three minutes.  
  
He rifles through the cold medicine box, throwing a couple of pills down the garbage disposal and tosses the Kleenex in his room to try and make it look authentic before slipping out the front door.  
  
*

If it were any other person, Lin would’ve scoffed at the choice of such an expensive restaurant. But is isn’t just anyone, it’s Gaius. It was picked with deliberate choice and thought based on information he already knew about him. It’s a touching sentiment, really.

“I’ve never actually had the chance to try this place,” Gaius says holding the door open for Lin.  
  
“Really? It’s practically a staple in this city,” he replies, giving the hostess the last name ‘Outway’. “Jill and I come here often. Well, now we do. Her ex used to take her here when they needed to talk.”  
  
Gaius follows him to their table, “Reclaiming it? What a fantastic idea.” The hostess gestures to their table, placing the menus on their settings. Gaius pulls out Lin’s chair and he grumbles under his breath that he’s able to do that himself. Gaius just laughs.

Reading over the list of options, Lin explains that the menu is more of a formality. It’s a prix fixe menu that changes based on season and availability, he says, pointing to certain options that weren’t there the last time he’d visited the restaurant. When the waiter arrives, they place their drink orders and decide on the upgraded option which includes premium selections, course, and of course, dessert.

They hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, Gaius having to take off on a business trip shortly after the first of the year, but he’d never been too far away. Sometimes he’d call Lin from the opposite side of the world where it was still the middle of the afternoon just to wish him good night, and other times he’d send Lin emails with information about an attached photo without ever actually attaching anything. Lin humored him.  
  
“Where are we going after this?” Lin asks, sipping his wine. He’d been told to dress nice, but he hadn’t been given any other indication.  
  
“Oh,” Gaius replies, “I remember you mentioned Shostakovich is your favorite twentieth century composer. The philharmonic is doing an exhibition of his work, so I thought maybe you’d like that.”

He sounds almost hesitant and Lin smiles, “That sounds wonderful.” He thinks about reaching across the table to take Gaius’ hand but feels uncomfortable and pulls it back in his lap, playing with the end of the scarf he has wrapped around his neck. Looking up, he suddenly remembers, “I um, I didn’t bring your scarf back. I might’ve told my roommate I bought it.”

“Did Jill like it?” Gaius asks, swirling his shochu in its glass.

It should be illegal to be this attractive, Lin thinks, admiring his strong facial features in the dim lighting of the low hanging paper lanterns decorating the ceiling. And yet even between the shadows of the restaurant, and his black bangs shielding his vision, his eyes are perfectly illuminated, intense and focused.  
  
“What?” Lin doesn’t remember what the question was, having been too focused on the soft curves of his lips, thinking about how much he liked it when they were underneath his own.  
  
“Did she like it? You’re both quite fashionable. I’m wondering if she approved of my taste?”

“Right,” Lin pauses for a moment, trying to direct his attention to the conversation. “Yeah, she said it was cute.”  
  
The waiter arrives with the first of their courses, thinly sliced toro topped with caviar, salad with chrysanthemum flowers, and plates lined with gold foil. Sometimes Gaius asks Lin how spicy a particular dish is before he tries it, and he pushes the white truffles off of his entrées despite them coming with the upgraded menu option. Lin isn’t about to waste the opportunity to enjoy them, and finishes most of what his companion doesn’t like.  
  
“This is just sushi,” Lin says when the last course arrives, “I promise it’s okay.”  
  
Lifting up one side of a piece of yellowtail with the end of his fork he asks, “There isn’t any wasabi on it, is there?”  
  
Lin can’t help but laugh out loud and shakes his head; “You’re ridiculous; no, not unless you put it on.”  
  
Gaius frowns and looks at his chopsticks with unease as he picks the utensil up with shaky hands, “I’ve been burned in the past.” He isn’t very good at holding them and Lin can tell he’s struggling, though he knew he wouldn’t admit it out loud - just noticed he’d been opting for his fork all night.  
  
Pausing for a moment, Lin reaches his hands across the small table and rearranges the way Gaius is holding the chopsticks, “Here, like a pencil, and then grab this one with the thumb and index—yeah, like that.”  
  
Making a noise of discontent, he manages to pick up the fish, plunking it in his small dish of soy sauce. 

“Is it okay?” he asks, and Gaius nods in reply. There’s nothing else Lin wants to do than to lean across the table and kiss his slightly indignant expression as he tries another item off the tray in the center of the table with extreme caution, but he refrains, choosing instead to kick him lightly under the table. “You picked this place, you know.”  
  
“Did you like it?” Gaius replies, dropping his sashimi into his bowl. He grimaces slightly as he pulls it out, completely drenched in sauce and shoots a panicked look to Lin across the table.

“It’s perfect.” Lin says, trying not to laugh too much.  
  
“Well, that’s all that matters.”

*

The doors for the concert didn’t open for another hour and Lin suggests grabbing drinks at a bar that recently opened near the venue while they wait. Dinner didn’t take as long as Gaius anticipated and he agreed, remarking that it sounded like a fantastic idea.  
  
It’s crowded inside and Lin pulls Gaius by his gloved hand behind him as he makes a beeline for a booth snuggled into a dark corner, not bothering to apologize for the people he bumped into in an effort to snatch the seats as quickly as possible. He hears Gaius apologize on his behalf behind him and figures that’s good enough.  
  
Finally reaching the booth, he removes his overcoat and tosses it on the table. There’s a band that’s playing on a small stage on the front, and he doesn’t think they’re too bad, the female vocalist both engaging and quite talented. The bar is along the back wall and Lin stands on his tiptoes to try and see how busy it is over the heads of people milling about.  
  
“Stay here, I’ll go grab drinks. What do you want?” He asks, still tightly holding on to Gaius’ hand.  
  
“No, no. I’ve got it.” Gaius tries to argue, “You stay—“  
  
“It’s fine, I’m pretty good at weaving through crowds. What do you want?”  
  
“Scotch on the rocks but here, take—“ He tries to shove a weighty black credit card at Lin, but he waves him off and heads to the back, nudging between two overly inebriated people to get the attention of the bartender.

When he finally places their order, he reaches into his pants pocket to grab his wallet and feels a heavy card in his pocket that wasn’t there before. Pulling it out, he snorts, reading ‘Arst Outway’ in silver lettering on the front, feeling the metal in between his fingers. He’d asked if Gaius preferred Arst, and he’d replied that it didn’t make a difference, but noted that his college friends were typically the only ones that still used Gaius. Lin said it sounded regal—majestic, even—so he’d kept with it.  
  
The bartender returns with their drinks and he thrusts the card in his pocket, paying for it himself, and shoves his way back to their booth. Gaius has a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, tapping on his iPhone, bright screen illuminating his face. He looks absolutely ridiculous and Lin places the drinks on the small round table, kissing him on the nose.  
  
“Nice try,” Lin says, tossing the card at his chest, sliding into the booth.  
  
“It was a sincere effort,” he replies, wrapping an arm around Lin’s shoulders, crossing his legs under the table.  
  
They watch the band for a while, making offhand comments about the show or about anything that’s of interest to them at the moment, Lin leaning his head against Gaius’ chest. As much as he’s trying to focus his energy on the group in front of him and enjoy the atmosphere of one of the (as listed by _The Culinary Dropout)_ best up-and-coming locations in the city, he’s too focused on how badly he wants to abandon reason.  
  
He looks up at his companion, black hair still in his eyes, and maybe it’s the remnants of that same desire they shared in the front seat of the car the first time they met, but before he can register his actions, he’s leaning up and pressing their lips together, one of Gaius’ hands on his thigh, the other wrapped in his hair.

Neither of them seem to care that they’re surrounded by people and Lin shifts his weight to rest on his leg, propping himself up a little, tightly grasping the lapels of Gaius’ jacket as he kisses him hard and full on the mouth, teeth nipping at his lower lip. For a moment, he registers what he’s doing and thinks about pulling away, but Gaius moves his hand from his thigh to grip at his hip with such force his only response is to shove his tongue as far back as it can go.  
  
Breathlessly, Gaius manages to break away first, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

Lin tries to contain his laughter, “Did you think I didn’t want that?”  
  
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”  
  
“Well, I did,” he replies, leaning up to kiss him again. Between the sheer number of faceless people, darkness and relative seclusion of the booth in the corner, there’s a decent amount of privacy, and he isn’t sure how long they stay tucked into the back of the bar, band playing song after song after song.

In fact, everything about this moment is close to perfection, and he’d be completely incorrect if he tried to say that he picked the corner booth for any other reason, knowing from previous encounters that Gaius valued his confidentiality rather highly—though he would never know it with the way his back is shoved against the seat cushions with the other attached to his neck, hands running up and down his sides.  
  
Finally, Gaius’ phone buzzes, a timer that they’re supposed to start walking toward the arena and he briefly breaks their contact to hit a button on the side of the phone, resuming their former position. Lin only chuckles in response, wondering how much he could really let his guard down if they were back at his apartment instead.  
  
“God, I want you,” Lin manages to breathe somewhere between the fervent kisses on his jawbone and lips, and all he receives is a muffled noise of acknowledgement.  
  
Then Gaius pauses, “The concert—“  
  
“We’ll get there,” Lin replies, and Gaius cracks a smile, rosy eyes half-lidded, and all he does his laugh.  
  
*  
  
He’s teasing him. He’s teasing him and Lin knows it because every time he catches Gaius running his hand along his shoulder blades or brushing his fingers against his upper thigh he just gives a half smile and looks at the stage. Sometimes he leans over to ask Lin how he likes a particular piece and the scent of his cologne itself is enough to drive him crazy.  
  
The concert is almost excruciatingly long, and it isn’t because it’s dull. In fact, it’s one of the most brilliant performances of Shostakovich’s work that he’s ever seen, but as much as he tries, he can’t give his full and undivided attention to the concert because there’s a nagging part of his brain that’s very, _very_ focused on a single outcome to the evening.  
  
In fact, he’s almost completely absorbed in his own thoughts when the applause begins and he springs out of his seat only to remember that he’s in a secluded booth on the upper tier of the hall and Gaius is still sitting down, legs crossed, suit jacket draped over the back of the chair.  
  
“Why aren’t you standing?” Lin asks, peering over the railing, noticing that no one else is really standing either and those that are standing are milling about, exiting the theatre.  
  
“It’s merely intermission,” he chuckles, finally standing and stretching, “I’m going to see if they have those little chocolate covered cookie dough bites. Do you want anything?”  
  
“Oh,” his face grows warm and he averts his attention elsewhere, “No, no. I’m fine.”

Gaius leans over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing through the doors in the back of the private box. As per the norm with that man, Lin’s left confused and with a sense of longing no one else makes him experience. Sighing, he flops back in his chair and pulls out his phone, checking his messages.  
  
Milla’s sent him a blurry Snapchat video of what he thinks is Jill and Musee doing a row of shots at the bar with the caption “haaahah” and a series of emojis that don’t make much sense at all. In the corner he can see a (very) shirtless Ludger standing behind the bar, and in the crowd of people around the two women, he snorts when he spots Leia and Nadia—both of whom are certainly not twenty-one.  
  
There’s also a new message from Jill:  
  
 _you’re my beest friend. I love you so much you’ve done so many nice thins. Im  literally the worst at making frineds but omg you’re the best donr stop loving me,  
  
 **Promise I won’t. But try and love water just as much tonight.**  
  
_ Tapping his messages, he starts a group chat with Leia and Nadia:  
  
 ** _Kids don’t belong at bars, you know._**

He passively looks at his phone for a while when the lights flicker, alerting the end of the intermission, and Gaius finally returns, carrying a small paper bowl with a spoon sticking out of the top. Lin looks at it curiously.  
  
“I forgot they had gelato,” he replies with a shrug, biting down on a piece of waffle cone.  
  
The second half of the concert is somehow more painful than the first part, and Lin isn’t sure if it’s because Gaius is taking agonizingly long to finish his dessert, tongue swirling around the spoon, or because sometimes he leans over and asks Lin if there’s any chocolate on his lower lip. 

“What about now?” Gaius asks, scent of amaretto laced in his whispers that are tickling Lin’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.  
  
“Oh stop,” he replies, elbowing him in the chest, “I’m watching a performance.”  
  
He hums in response, biting the corner of his mouth, “Well, I’d hope you’d be courteous enough to take care of it for me.” His voice is deep and smooth and fits him so goddamn well, he’s embarrassed at the effect if has on him, but he remains focused.   
  
Lin doesn’t reply, just keeps his eyes firmly glued to the stage, even when Gaius runs his fingers through his hair, soft ebon strands slipping through his grasp, nails gently gracing his scalp. Even when he begins tracing patterns on Lin’s back, and even when he feels his hands sliding down his neck. There's only a few more pieces left, he reminds himself. He can remain a gentleman for at least _that_ long, even if his body is threatening to betray him as Gaius shifts his weight just a little closer.  
  
“Are you enjoying it?” By now, his arm is wrapped around the back of the seat and his legs are crossed in Lin’s direction. His tie is a little loose against his collarbone, large jewel glittering on the delicately tied Windsor knot, and the top two buttons of his shirt are hanging open.  
  
“Yes,” he breathes, trying not to let his golden eyes falter from the concert, even if his mind is desperately telling him to just take a little peek. He stops and ponders for a moment. After all, how bad could one peek be? When he does look over at the other man, his breath hitches in his throat.  
  
“Good,” Gaius replies, his fingers back in Lin’s hair, “I am too.”  
  
*  
  
His designer coat is already off by the time the front door of Gaius’ penthouse swings shut, haphazardly thrown on the floor in a heap. If his arms weren’t wrapped around Gaius’ neck, and his legs around his hips, he’d be offended at the treatment of his expensive possessions.  
  
Gaius is holding him almost effortlessly, back supported against the hallway wall, firm hands gripping the bottoms of his thighs, and _fuck_ he’s just as strong as he looks and it just makes Lin want him even more, kissing back as hard as he’s able to.  
  
They’d barely spoken on the car ride over to the penthouse, words an unnecessary formality for the situation. In fact, it hadn’t even been a question where the Aston Martin was going, and Lin couldn’t even comment on the sheer luxury of his building when they pulled because his mind was focused on one single thing and it was sitting next to him in the car, hand resting on his knee.  
  
Gaius pulls back, “I do believe the bed would be much more comfortable.”  
  
“You could fuck me on the ground and I wouldn’t give a shit,” Lin replies, pulling their lips back together, digging his nails into Gaius’ shoulder blades as hard as he can through the material of his button-up shirt.  
  
“Is that so,” he murmurs against Lin’s lips and carries him up the stairs, kicking in the door to his bedroom, dropping him on the mattress. Lin thinks briefly about looking at the interior décor, but Gaius is in front of him: strong and handsome, panting from carrying another man up the stairs and he does the only thing he can think of and yanks off Gaius’ tie and shirt, buttons popping in various directions across the wood floor.  
  
“Shit,” he breathes, dragging his nails along his abdomen, moving his mouth to lap at his navel, fingers dipping into the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them as fast as humanly possible. By now, he’s abandoned all sense of restraint and he wants to taste everything the man has to give.  
  
Gaius’ fingers are intertwined in his hair again and Lin thinks that he might have a fetish for it, but then he gives a sharp tug on his ebon locks, “I don’t know if I told you that was allowed just yet.”

He’s about to snap back at him, but Gaius is faster, and Lin’s lying on his back with the other man pressing his full weight against his body, arms pinned to the mattress. Gaius’ skin looks positively delicious in the dim lighting of the room and he struggles against his restraints. It’s both infuriating and a complete fucking turn-on, and despite his typical controlled nature, his body is already reacting to the gorgeous man with his arms tightly gripping his wrists.  
  
“Is that so? And I take orders from you now?” Lin growls, and Gaius’ lips are back on his own, but this time it’s rougher and _shit,_ he thinks, _so_ much sexier, teeth tearing at his tongue, mouth already swollen from how tightly they’re pressed together.  
  
“You do,” is all he says in reply, moving to bite at Lin’s neck, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his throat.

Lin craves the pain, craves the sheer desperation that’s surging through his body, and the more he’s denied what he wants, the more he wants it. Between his ragged gasps and exclamations he manages to breathe, “Harder.”  
  
There’s a soft chuckle before he complies, biting harder than before, and all Lin can do is moan and lie languid against the pillow, body immobilized under the firm weight of the other man.  
  
Finally, Gaius pulls back, sitting up, legs straddling Lin’s hips, and unbuttons his shirt with much more care than Lin had offered. Lin watches him with golden eyes half-lidded, ebon hair fanned out like a coronet around his head. He isn’t sure when Gaius shed his underwear but he’s not complaining, and it suddenly occurs to him that all he wants is the feeling of his cock pounding against the back of his throat.   
  
He feels his pants sliding down along his thighs and Gaius laughs for a moment, “Your skin is just too perfect. It’s about time someone lay claim to it.” And before Lin registers what he’s doing, his mouth is on his inner thigh and Lin gasps, sharp sensation shooting up his body, hand darting to yank at Gaius’ hair.  
  
“Fuck, yes, please,” he’s practically begging for it, and it disgusts him but it’s the only thing he knows how to do in the moment. Beg for Gaius to mark his body. Beg for his dominance. Beg for Gaius to take him and swallow him whole because there isn’t a single thing that Lin wouldn’t agree to right now.  
  
He leaves bruises along his thighs, chest, and neck, stopping at his lips once again. Their bodies are pressed together and Lin is grinding and thrusting underneath him, panting, “Fuck me, goddammit. Quit fucking around and just fuck me, I can’t take it.”

“Turn around,” Gaius commands, and Lin complies, scrambling to flip his body over, hands twisting in the sheets. Gaius doesn’t waste a single moment and he feels his fingers inside of him, stretching him open and he’s almost painfully slow—it’s enough to drive him crazy.  
  
He feels Gaius lean over his body, long black hair tickling the back of his neck, and he whispers in his ear, voice husky and dripping with an eroticism Lin didn’t know real people were capable of possessing, “I want to hear it again. What do you want?”  
  
There aren’t many people that could get Lin on his knees like this, biting his lower lip until the familiar metallic taste fills his mouth, and he stops fighting, surrendering himself to desire, “Fuck me. Fuck me until it hurts, fuck me until I’m screaming.”  
  
“Fuck me what?”  
  
“ _Please_ , goddammit. Fuck me please.” He’s painfully hard and Gaius isn’t making this any easier. Without warning, Gaius’ fingers are replaced by his cock, thick and hard and it feels better than he imagined. Gaius is giving him time to adjust, but he doesn’t want to adjust. He just wants to take as much of him as he can, and pushes himself up on his arms, shoving his body back.  
  
“Think I can’t take it?” Gaius gives a low chuckle and thrusts into him, refusing to hold back even a little, fingers tightly gripping Lin’s protruding hipbones.

He fucks him hard. Harder than Lin’s ever had and he’s having a hard time supporting his weight on his arms. Gaius is digging his nails into his skin and he’s trying to think clearly enough to be able to say something, but the only thing that spills from his lips are desperate gasps for air.  
  
“Oh no, no,” Gaius replies, fingers gripping tighter around Lin’s hips, and he feels a sharp pain surge through his body, “I know you can.” He didn’t realize that Gaius could turn him on any more and he collapses against the pillows, arms finally crashing under the weight of his arousal.  
  
When he thinks he can’t take it any more, he feels Gaius release one side of his body and grasp the wooden headboard above them, positioning his body over him, the other hand still tearing into his flesh and he groans loudly, the change in position driving as much as he can into his body.

Conceding to his carnal pleasures, Lin manages to push his torso up, leaning on his elbows, and thrusts his body back, clenching tightly against the cock deep inside of him and smirks when Gaius moans audibly above him.  
  
The bed is thumping into the wall, and Gaius moves from clutching the headboard to running his fingers through Lin’s hair, yanking it unforgivingly, using it as his new leverage to slam his body as hard as he can into Lin, increasing his pace.  
  
“Shit, fuck, I’m—“ Lin tries to say, holding himself upright with one hand on the bedpost, riding Gaius as much as he’s able to in his current position. He’s so aroused it’s nearly excruciating and he wants to touch himself just for some kind of release but he can’t, rendered practically helpless by their position.  
  
Gaius is grunting above him and he doesn’t say anything, just thrusts into him so hard that Lin’s body completely collapses under his weight and he comes, moaning Gaius’ name, the friction between the mattress and his own body covered in a thin layer of sweat too much to handle. His companion doesn’t take too much longer, driving harder, nails dragging against his thighs and he hisses, hand jerking his hair tightly.  
  
They’re both panting, and Gaius pulls out of him, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash, making a small noise of complaint when he misses by a few inches. Lin’s lying on his stomach facing Gaius, caring very little that his own semen is drying on his skin.  
  
“Are you okay?” Gaius asks, rolling on his side.  
  
“Is that a joke?” he snorts, and Gaius looks concerned. Laughing, he adds, “Believe me, I’m fine. Though, I can’t say the same for my hips.” He flips over and sits up, looking at the red marks on his skin, feeling the raised flesh on his thighs and sore spots on his neck. 

“You asked.”  
  
“I know, I know.” Lin falls on the pillows and sinks into the soft down, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids he can see the room grow dark. He feels Gaius shifting next to him and cracks an eye open to see what he’s doing.  
  
“Can I, um,” Gaius’ voice is soft, with just a hint of shyness and Lin scoots himself closer, pressing into Gaius’ toned abdomen, tucking his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck. He doesn’t say anything back, just wraps his arms around Lin’s torso and rests his chin on the top of his head.  
  
*  
  
By the time they have breakfast at the café down the street from his penthouse, it’s already 9AM, and when he shoves the key into the lock on his apartment door, it’s well past 10. He silently prays that Jill is still out with Milla—safely, of course—but when he cracks the front door open, she’s sitting at the table, drinking coffee out of a mug that reads ‘is a butter a carb’ (that she’d given Lin as a present last year) and eating cereal.  
  
She looks up from her iPad when he enters and he gives a small wave, “Hey.”  
  
“Nice hickey,” she replies.  
  
“You too,” She has a purple bruise on the right side of her collarbone, visible in her black v-neck. He shuts the door behind him, tossing his keys on the counter. He removes his suit jacket and folds it over the back of the couch, throwing his tie along with it.

“How’s your cold doing?” She kicks a dining chair out from under the table with her foot, gesturing for him to sit down.  
  
“I think it was just allergies. The medicine you left really helped.” Lin knows that she knows he’s lying, but he’s not about to admit it. He slides into the seat and reaches over to steal her mug.  
  
“Uh-huh,” she goes back to reading on her tablet, “Help you get laid too, I see.”  
  
“I didn’t, no,” Lin says, sipping on the coffee, wrinkling his nose when he notices that she’s laced it with peppermint mocha creamer.  
  
Jill pauses and leans over the table and sniffs his neck, “I thought I told you that cologne didn’t suit—“ she narrows her eyes, “It’s Mr. Valentino, isn’t it? I knew there was no suit!”  
  
Lin pushes her back into her chair and averts his gaze, “What? No, no. It’s nothing,” Remembering the bruise she had on her collarbone, suddenly he asks, “How was pirate night?”  
  
Leaning her chin on her hand, Jill replies, “This isn’t about me.”  
  
“Right, right,” he laughs, pulling his iPhone from his pants pocket, checking his messages. There’s a new notification from Gaius waiting in his inbox.  
  
 _Waiting Until Next Week Is Going To Be Difficult.  
  
_ He refrains from smiling for fear of Jill’s watchful gaze.  
  
 **_Yeah, it will be._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! I love the nice comments so far~


	8. Friday the 13th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a day late on this because I wrote the last like four chapters backwards and what was eight became ten and then eight wasn't done, so I did nine to procrastinate. It's a mess. I'm glad we're all here.
> 
> Also, poor Jude.

There’s an odd feeling waking up in the bed of a virtual stranger, then getting in his car and driving to the university with him as if there’s nothing between them and it’s something entirely normal. But the strange thing is that it _is_ completely and utterly normal and Jude doesn’t know if he likes that realization. It’s normal to wake up sore and bruised, hickeys littering his neck and chest and then ask Alvin if they actually had any homework for class that day.  
  
The car pulls into the parking structure and idles for a moment before Alvin shuts off the ignition. It’s almost seven in the morning and no one else is around, and there isn’t a single car in sight on the second floor of the complex. Jude isn’t sure why Alvin drives, considering it’s only a couple stops away by train, but chalks it up to another of his obnoxious habits—like being an early riser. 

He thought for sure that Alvin would prefer waking up later in the day, but he was up even before the sun, fixing his hair and fussing with his appearance. Jude preferred to sleep in, and was prone to throwing pillows and vulgarities to try and get even fifteen more minutes before Alvin would toss him into a cold shower, clothing and all. 

“I really hate you,” Jude would say, throwing pieces of his wet pajamas over the top of the shower, deliberately aiming at Alvin’s head.  
  
“If you got up when I asked you, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” he’d reply, irritated he had to fix his hair, now dripping with water, “And goddammit kid, throw your clothes at me one more time and see what happens.”  
  
Jude paused and then threw his socks, one sliding against the bathroom mirror, the other whacking Alvin in the back of the neck and Alvin just growled in reply.  
  
Jude isn’t a morning person and he’s still tired even as the digital clock flashes to 7:05 AM. Alvin clears his throat, trying to signal to Jude to open the door and get out. Jude waves him off and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to will his body to move even just a few inches, but he’s having a difficult time getting himself to do anything in his present state.  
  
“Hand on the door, c’mon, let’s move it. I have class at nine and I wanted to go to the gym,” Alvin says, exasperated, pulling Jude’s backpack from the backseat, shoving it on his lap. Jude makes a noise of discontent, his bag heavy with his laptop, unnecessary amount of textbooks, and all his overnight belongings.  
  
“Fine. You know, you should really just give me a key,” he replies, slinging the bag over one shoulder, getting out and slamming the door behind him, “I don’t have class until ten and it’s so hard to get here this early.”  
  
“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Alvin says, locking his car and slinging his arm over Jude’s shoulders, guiding them toward the staircase, “It starts with a key, then you’re leaving a toothbrush over, maybe a few changes of clothing, and before I know it you’ve moved in and we’re married with like ten kids.” Alvin makes a dramatic gesture with his hands and Jude sighs heavily, “It ain’t happenin’, nice try.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” Jude adjusts the strap on his backpack and Alvin releases him from his grasp, walking just a few paces in front of Jude. He’s pretty tall, and Jude’s short legs don’t keep up with him very well, so he usually resorts to power walking, but it’s difficult in the February cold, and he runs out of breath pretty frequently.  
  
There’s a light dusting of snow covering the ground and Jude loses his footing sometimes on an unexpected patch of ice, usually clutching on to the back of Alvin’s coat to steady himself.

They eventually arrive at the doors of Leia’s coffee shop and Alvin turns on the heel of his boot, gym bag swinging around precariously, “I’m busy tonight,” he says without explanation, pulling his phone out and tapping on the screen with this thumb.  
  
“Er, okay.” Jude replies and he shifts on his feet, unsure of what to say. He wants to ask him if he’s free tomorrow, or even Saturday, but the words catch in his throat. Alvin’s hard to read, and he can’t tell if the expression on his face is indifference or concentration. 

Alvin looks up, his bangs in his eyes, “So, Friday?” He tucks his phone back in his bag and tosses his hair from his vision.  
  
“Uh, yeah, that’s fine,” Jude says, trying to avoid holding his gaze for too long.  
  
“We can get take-out from that Japanese place down the street—“  
  
“—Oh yeah, they have the best tofu miso soup and mabo curry ever—“ He stops when Alvin raises an eyebrow and apologizes, looking down.  
  
“Right,” he chuckles and reaches a hand out, running it through Jude’s hair, “Don’t forget the statistic practical is today, see you then.” With a crooked grin, he turns and gives a wave over his shoulder, Jude blushing under his bangs.

He turns and enters the coffee shop, contemplating bolting when he spots Lin at the front of the line, trying to shove the image of his shirtless Snapchat out of the far reaches of his brain. Nadia’s working this morning, her white hair in a bun this time, flowers sticking out from the back, and he remembers that Leia mentioned that she had an event for _The Spectator_ to cover before classes, so they’d switched shifts.

Lin’s getting along with her quite well, and Jude frowns. He didn’t know that anyone could get along with either of them, and yet there they are, laughing like they’d known each other for decades and Jude tries to make himself as invisible as possible, waiting until they’re done with their conversation.

Eventually, Nadia makes eye contact with him and he looks at his phone, pretending to text a very important message and not at all concerned with his surroundings, and Lin clears his throat. Jude looks up and shoves some of his black hair from his face, regretting not packing any hairclips with him when he had gone over to Alvin’s last night.  
  
“How long have you been waiting there Mathis?” Lin asks, dropping his wallet back into his messenger bag.  
  
“Oh, uh, I-I just got here,” he replies, shoving his phone in his back pocket. Lin didn’t look like he believes him and just shrugs and moves away from the register, waiting for his drink to be finished.  
  
Nadia’s leaning over the counter, smirking wildly, and Jude doesn’t think that’s a good sign. He hesitates, then approaches when she crooks her finger at him, beckoning him closer, “Saw your little boyfriend this morning.”  
  
Jude’s blood runs cold for a minute and his stomach flips. She couldn’t be talking about—no, he thinks, they weren’t even close to each other unless he missed the memo about hair ruffling constituting a romantic relationship. Still, he couldn’t be too certain, what if she—  
  
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Nadia says, rolling her eyes a little from her position behind the espresso machine, pulling the shots over ice for Lin’s drink.  
  
“Uh, who?” He asks, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Nonchalant isn’t something he can pull off very well.  
  
“That guy over there,” she gestures with her elbow to the back of the coffee shop, “Wouldn’t stop going on and on about you, when you were getting here, whether you’d be late, what you order—I figured he was either a boyfriend or a stalker.”  
  
He looks over his shoulder and spots a man with a long white ponytail delicately draped over one shoulder, square framed sunglasses perched on top of his head and sighs, “Coworker, but the last one isn’t too far off either, and uh, I’ll just take a large hot coffee with room.”  
  
She nods in understanding and calls out an order for a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings and Lin just picks it up wordlessly with his Americano. Jude thinks for a moment, trying to remember why it sounds so familiar. Then he remembers, it’s the order that he’s had to get for Mr. Outway a few times from the coffee cart on the first floor when Musee decides to visit Milla instead of doing what she’s told and sending him out in her stead.  
  
“That’s—“ Jude starts to say out loud and Lin looks at him. Jude makes eye contact and all he can think about is Lin’s naked, pale chest on Mr. Outway’s phone and he stops for a minute, thinking it would be unwise to finish his previous thought, “—That’s a lot of calories.”

Lin narrows his eyes, “What did you say, Mathis?”  
  
“I—I, uh, I was, um, I was just, I—“ And he helplessly looks at Nadia, who’s just leaning against the counter with a devilish smile on her lips and _good god,_ he thinks, her teeth her sharp. No wonder Leia carries around concealer and why was he thinking about Leia and Nadia and _shit_ he remembers, Lin’s still standing there, angry expression on his handsome features—did Jude just think he was handsome?  
  
“You were, what?”  
  
He turns back to Lin and in his mind’s eye, he’s completely topless and it’s making this whole situation that much more uncomfortable. Finally, he manages to stammer, “I mean, uh, you can spare it.”  
  
“So help me god, if I didn’t have somewhere to be, I would end you.” He shoves the drinks in a holder and exits the shop, a flurry of black clothing and resentment, leather bag swinging over his shoulders.

Jude turns back to Nadia who hands him his drink, “I made you a decaf Americano for being an asshole.”  
  
“Thanks,” he says, still embarrassed, and shuffles to where Ivar’s sitting, pretending not to watch the scene from behind his laptop.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Ivar says, not looking up from his screen, and Jude plops down in the empty seat, resting his bag on the table in front of him. He just nods in reply, opening his backpack, and pulls out his computer case, his overnight clothing spilling out along with it. Jude tries to stuff most of it back and Ivar picks up a pair of plaid pajama pants, “Are you homeless?”  
  
Jude snatches them from Ivar, “No, I was, uh—“ Well, what was he doing last night? He’d kicked Alvin’s ass at the racing game he’d picked out, then he’d kicked Alvin’s ass at the fighting game he’d picked out. Eventually, Alvin said he could chug an entire growler of beer before Jude and Jude hadn’t been stupid enough to challenge him. He’d been successful, hoisted Jude up over his shoulder and fucked him over the back of the couch in his bedroom. He was always pretty good when he was a little bit beer drunk.

“Sleeping on a bench, phony?” Ivar laughs (mostly to himself) and pulls out a folder from his bag, getting the data they needed to work on compiled.

He could tell Ivar he was seeing someone. That he stayed over. That the sex was amazing and he loved how Alvin never held back when they were together, but it didn’t feel right. They weren’t together and he couldn’t talk about it because there wasn’t anything between them. So instead he says the truth, “It’s nothing. Let’s just work and do what we came here to do.”

Ivar shrugs in response.

*  
  
“What’s this?” Jude asks, setting his duffle bag in the entryway, making his way to the kitchen counter. There’s a large golden box sitting on the surface, softly glittering in the lighting, red ribbon tied with the utmost care, and Jude examines the tag that reads nothing but Alvin’s initials.

It’s in a delicate cursive that Jude never expected out of Alvin. He first noticed it yesterday when he turned in a printed copy of his online practical, Alvin signing the top of the sheet to indicate it was successfully submitted within the designated timeframe. Normally he just dropped the sheet off and went back to his computer, but Alvin’s hand lingered a bit too long on Jude’s when he accepted the paper.  
  
“I’m surprised,” he had said, checking off Jude’s name on the student sheet, “You’re usually finished first. Distracted?” He asked, looking up through his bangs, his eyes clouded with the same look he’d seen last night in his bedroom.

“N-No sir,” Jude lied, and fidgeted with the buttons on his jacket, “Just a little more difficult.”  
  
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said, handing Jude the written portion, fingertips brushing against Jude’s wrist.

He isn’t sure why he didn’t notice it before, tracing the curved lines of his initials and asks again, this time a little louder, “Alvin, what’s this?”

“Open it,” he says, coming up behind him, snaking one arm around his hips. Alvin leans close to his ear and whispers, “I promise I’m the only thing that bites,” and it sends shivers down Jude’s spine, reflexively arching into his grasp.  
  
Jude sighs heavily and plucks the red ribbon from the box, letting it fall on the counter. Sliding off the top, he peels back the tissue and looks at an array of (most likely expensive) chocolates in intricate shapes and sizes. Some were dark, molded like starfish, others had fluffy praline sandwiched between seashells, and several were square with colored ribbons on the shiny surface.  
  
“Alvin,” Jude whines and Alvin releases him from his hold. He stumbles a little and catches himself on the edge of the sink, not realizing how much he’d been relying on the other to hold him up.  
  
“What? You ate through my entire stash and then called yourself a chocoholic before passing out in the arm chair,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I thought you’d like it.”  
  
“You got me tipsy and then waved it in front of me,” Jude replies through a mouthful of chocolate, cheeks puffed, “I don’t even like chocolate,” he says, stuffing another truffle in his face. Picking up the box top, he examines the brand name, reaching for a shield shaped piece embellished with a lion design.  
  
Alvin just leans against the counter and tries to snatch a white chocolate heart, but Jude smacks his hand away and he just laughs, “Right, you hate it.”  
  
“I do,” he says, reading the sheet that indicates the name of each individual piece, biting into something that had a ganache center. “So um,” he asks after a small lapse in conversation, “What’s the occasion? Trying to fatten me up?” Popping a cherry cordial in his mouth, he looks at Alvin with wide eyes, “What’s next? Gonna try eating me?”  
  
Managing to swipe the white chocolate heart from the box, Alvin slides over and his arms are around Jude again, his face so close to Jude’s cheek he can feel his hot breath against his neck, “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” His teeth grace his neck and his fingers are wrapped in Jude’s hair and the other is winding back around his hips, undoing the button and zipper of his pants, grasping Jude’s cock.

Jude doesn’t know what to do, pressed between the man’s weight and the counter and just moans, letting his torso hit the cool stone surface. Alvin’s pushing his head down, caressing and teasing him and Jude realizes that he’s about to get fucked against the counter in a kitchen that isn’t his and it just fills him with arousal, moaning into his arms.  
  
His eyes are closed and he hears the soft crinkle of foil to his left, chocolate box scraping the top of the counter. He isn’t sure what Alvin’s doing, and it doesn’t concern him, at least until Alvin’s fingers are pushing against his lips, prying them open. Alvin leans over his body and growls in his ear, voice low and laced with lust, “Eat it.” Jude does as he’s told, cracking his eyes open just a little, tongue sliding over Alvin’s fingers, sugary taste of chocolate filling his mouth.  
  
Alvin’s hand is still tight around his cock, slicked with precum, and if he didn’t have another man’s fingers down his throat, a part of him might’ve been embarrassed at how turned on he is already, his own hands around Alvin’s wrist, forcing himself to take his fingers further in his mouth. It’s only when he hears Alvin chuckle above him that his face grows warm with shame, but he doesn’t dare stop for a moment, sucking on Alvin’s fingers like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

Pulling Jude’s pants down to his knees, Alvin switches the position of his hands and Jude’s tasting himself, and he can’t help but moan. It’s just slightly sweet and he loves the way Alvin’s ramming his fingers deep down his throat. He coughs, but doesn’t stop lapping at everything he’s given.  
  
Behind him, Alvin’s saliva slicked fingers are pressing their way inside his ass, and he’s completely bent over the kitchen counter, cock dripping and Alvin’s hard, pressing himself against Jude’s thigh, shoving him violently against the cabinets. He’s working him open, and it burns just a little more than usual, but it doesn’t prevent Jude from moaning Alvin’s name around his fingers, driving his hips backward.   
  
He tries to tell him to just take him like this, but his words come out muffled and incomprehensible around the hand between his lips, and Alvin just growls, thrusting his body against Jude’s. Whether he understood him or not, he’s fucking him with three of his fingers, and finally liberates Jude’s mouth, grabbing Jude’s cock, desperately pumping it in his grip.  
  
“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Alvin breathes, and Jude collapses in a wreck on the counter, the cool travertine a reprieve against his sweat-soaked skin. He’s not going to last much longer, and there’s a sense of humiliation in being rendered completely helpless in the apartment of his teacher, standing on his tiptoes and moaning his name as if it’s the only word he’s able to say. 

But he holds on as long as he can. He likes the feeling of Alvin inside of him, he likes the attention, he likes feeling this much degradation with his pants around his ankles and his t-shirt pushed up and he doesn’t want it to end. So he does everything he can to keep Alvin there—to keep Alvin wanting him, because there’s no obligation. Alvin could tell him in three hours to leave and he wouldn’t be able to argue, but at least if he’s good enough, maybe he can stay. 

“Ah—Alvin, shit,” he says through jagged breaths and all he can feel is Alvin’s repetitive motions: one hand deep inside of him, the other sliding along his length and it feels so unbelievably good to be used like this. No one else has ever made him feel this way, and he pushes his hips back, pressing his thigh against Alvin’s hardening cock.

Alvin’s leans over Jude’s body and whispers in his ear, “Such a good boy,” voice dripping with desire and Jude can’t take it anymore, words sending him over the edge. He comes into Alvin’s hand and his knees buckle underneath his orgasm as he tries to hold on to something to prevent him from falling on the tiled floor.

Dropping his hands, Alvin moves to grab a paper towel from the holder behind them and Jude just lays on the stone, breathing heavily, not caring he’s still carelessly tossed over the kitchen counter. After a couple minutes, he wills his arms to push him up and turns around, pulling his pants up over his hips and buttoning them. Alvin’s shirt is mostly hanging open and the top of his pants is undone, zipper sliding dangerously low. Jude can see the outline of his hipbones above the waistband of his jeans and his breath is caught in his throat. He isn’t sure how he always manages to forget how attractive he finds Alvin.  
  
“You sure are spoiled,” Alvin says laughing, arms crossed over his chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way,” he finishes, and Jude’s eyes widen as he shoots an accusatory look to the half-eaten box of chocolate then back to the man standing there with a Cheshire grin on his stupidly gorgeous face.  
  
“I—what?” Jude finally manages to stutter.  
  
“I mean, it’s tomorrow. But it felt more appropriate to give it to you on Friday the 13th, y’know?” Alvin cocks his head a little, and his brown hair is falling in his dark eyes Jude loves so much and Jude doesn’t know if he wants to slap him, kiss him, or drop on his knees and blow him. He eventually settles for just groaning dramatically.     
  
“Goddamn—fuck, Alvin. We’re not dating,” he replies, finally realizing his shirt is around the top of his torso and pulls it down. “I don’t want your stupid chocolate,” Jude says, throwing a caramel at Alvin across the room.

Alvin snickers, “You sure wanted it earlier. Should I make you eat it out of my hand?” He leans down and picks up the caramel off the floor, holding it out in his extended palm, “C’mon Jude, eat it.” Jude shoots him an unamused glare, walking over the couch and plopping on the cushions, leaning over and picking up his phone from the glass coffee table.  
  
“We’re ordering takeout now,” Jude states, and dials the number on the touchscreen.  
  
“But Jude,” Alvin whines, walking over to the living room, “What am I supposed to do about this?” He asks, gesturing to the erection in his pants and Jude just stares in reply before clearing his throat. Jude didn’t think Alvin could possibly be serious, but then again, it _is_ Alvin.  
  
“Fine, you pick the game. If you kick my ass, you can do whatever you want to me. If I win, _that_ is your problem.”  
  
“Deal,” Alvin says, hopping the back of his sofa and grabbing a controller. “Get ready to eat shit, Jude.”

Jude laughs and maybe it’s his imagination, but it feels like Alvin scoots just a little bit closer to Jude’s cross-legged position on the couch and he does his best to ignore the unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. Soft and fluttery with a twinge of emptiness that he can’t quite place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, we all know Jude intentionally loses. As always, thanks for reading!


	9. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahhhh, Merry Christmas. I'm fucking wasted.
> 
> Update: Somehow my drunk ass posted this twice, so this is the right one.

Lin’s still fiddling with his new watch when the Aston Martin pulls up to his apartment, idling in the valet lane typically reserved for patrons of the building’s esteemed restaurant on the first floor. He hardly notices, still enchanted with his (not) Valentine’s Day gift, diamonds embedded in the bezel and dial.  
  
“I still can’t believe you remembered,” Lin says, admiring the way the platinum shines in the morning sunlight, adjusting the way it sits on his wrist.  
  
Gaius laughs, “You pointed it out when we were shopping and wouldn’t stop speaking of it.”   
  
Presently, it’s the week after Valentine’s Day, as Lin refused to celebrate anything on February 14th. He said it was because restaurants threw out quality and creativity for the same boring menu and all the nice places were too crowded with mediocre champagne. Gaius hadn’t argued, just ordered takeout and changed their reservations to Friday the 20th instead.   
  
“I remember you have plans tonight, so next week?” Gaius asks, shifting the car into park.   
  
“Yeah, of course,” Lin says, and he pauses for a moment, “Thanks again,” he finishes, leaning over and kissing his cheek, but Gaius grabs his coat and tugs them together, pressing his lips against Lin’s mouth, running his tongue along his lower lip. The car is illegally parked and other drivers are forced to drive around them to reach the valet stand, but neither of them particularly care, in the moment kissing as if they would never see each other again.

That is, until Lin’s phone rings. He recognizes the unique tone and makes a noise of discontent as he pulls back, fishing it out from his pocket. “It’s Jill, hold on.” Hitting the answer button he asks, “What is it?”  
  
 _“You’re blocking the valet lane, you know,”_ she practically purrs over the receiver, and Lin’s eyes widen in surprise as he looks over his shoulder. Jill’s standing about six feet away from the car, several brown paper grocery bags by her feet and she waves. Gaius waves back.  
  
“Stop that,” Lin whispers to Gaius, shoving his arm down and clamors out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “What are you doing?” He asks Jill, shoving his phone back in his coat pocket.  
  
She ignores his question entirely, “So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to.”  
  
“I have not been—“  
  
“Hi, I’m Jill and I have not heard nearly enough about you,” she says, extending a hand. Gaius shakes it and Lin cuts him off before he’s able to say anything.  
  
“He’s my cousin, yeah in town for a few days. This has been nice,” and tugs the sleeve of Gaius’ suit jacket back to the parked car, but Gaius just swats him away and pulls his arm back, chastising him for being rude.  
  
Jill just rolls her eyes and adjusts the glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I hope you don’t kiss all your cousins that way.”  
  
Gaius chuckles at her reply, “I’m Arst, Arst Outway. And on the contrary, I’ve heard a lot about you—all good things.”

She looks at Lin, pinching his cheek, “You’re precious.”  
  
His face gets warm and he averts his gaze, “Alright, we’ve had introductions. Jill, Arst, Arst, Jill. Now let’s keep moving,” he leans over and picks up her grocery bags, peeking curiously into one of the sacks. It’s mostly filled with alcohol and small snack items and then it dawns on him, “Oh, um, happy birthday.”  
  
Tapping her chin thoughtfully she replies, “Normally, I’d be mad. But meeting Mr. Valentino makes up for your small indiscretion.”  
  
“It’s your birthday?” Gaius asks and Jill nods, “Ah, I apologize, Lin didn’t tell me, happy birthday. How will you be celebrating?”  
  
“Thank you, Arst. How courteous of you to apologize,” Jill leans close to Lin, “He gets a pass because, you know, he hasn’t been my friend for, like, seven years. Anyway, we’re going to one of my favorite restaurants—you should come!” She’s smiling, grin dripping with deviousness and her eyes have a triumph that she’s won this round. Lin has to, unfortunately, agree, but still protests.  
  
“You’re busy, right Arst? You—“  
  
“I’d be honored,” Gaius replies and there’s an unspoken connection between them. Lin can see it on their faces and he sighs heavily and gives up. There isn’t anything he’s able to do at this point. Just groan, resist, and let destiny take the reins of his life for the time being. They work out the details amongst themselves, and Lin gets his bag from the passenger’s seat of the Aston Martin and picks up the rest of the groceries, waiting for them to finish. He’s tuned out completely to their conversation, staring listlessly at the valet.  
  
“Lin,” he finally hears and he jumps a little, “I’ll be here at six,” Gaius says, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
“What, we have a car.”  
  
“And it’s my birthday,” Jill says, trying to suppress her laughter at the look of pure indignation on Lin’s face.  
  
“Fine. You’re lucky I like you,” Lin snorts, poking Gaius on the chest. Turning around, he manages to shift his weight with the groceries and grabs Jill by her wrist, dragging her into the building.

She waves back at Gaius and remarks once they’re out of earshot, “Goddamn, good on you.” 

*

“So, who’s even coming?” Lin asks, folding his jacket over the back of chair. He makes a disgruntled noise when Gaius pulls his seat out for him, but doesn’t complain this time. The restaurant is one of Jill’s favorites and they come often, in addition to every year for her birthday.  
  
It’s minimalist and modern inside, sleek lines of stainless steel decorating the walls and low hanging tubular lights providing a bright atmosphere—a stark contrast to the elegantly crafted French menu. They’re seated along one wall of the small dining room, eight seats prepped with a menu at each setting.  
  
“I know who isn’t coming,” and they both laugh. Gaius looks confused for a moment and Lin leans over and whispers ‘the ex’ before he nods in understanding, taking his reading glasses out from his jacket pocket, perching them on the end of his nose.  
  
Lin’s pretty sure that he doesn’t like how well Jill and Gaius get along. During the car ride, he (very, very graciously) allowed Jill to ride in the front seat while he suffered without heated seats in the back of the car and he felt like he couldn’t get a word in during their conversation. She was like his mother, telling embarrassing stories and he just accepted it, staring out the window in a huff. Nevertheless, it’s important to him that they like each other, so for that he’s thankful.

He points at a few things on the menu and asks Gaius what he’s ordering, eventually deciding they’d each try a different tasting menu. Lin would try the winter and Gaius the seasonal. They talk about different options for dessert when he hears a very, very unsettling voice above him.  
  
“I do believe you owe me a story,” Milla says, hooking her purse over the chair, plopping down ungracefully, her hair in two low hanging twin tails over her oversized sweater that’s falling off both shoulders, rhinestone skull glittering in the light.  
  
Lin peers over the top of his menu and frowns, Milla Maxwell sitting with Ludger on one side and her sister Musee on the other. He greets Ludger then hides his face behind his menu and turns to Jill, “You invited the Maxwells?” He whispers. Milla makes a comment above him that she has exceptional hearing and he snorts _of course she does_.  
  
“Yes, we bonded,” Jill replies in a normal tone, shoving Lin’s menu away from his face, “Pirate night.” Ludger’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red and he averts his gaze and Musee giggles behind her hand. Milla’s expression is determined and unwavering as usual—her default really.  
  
“I can’t decide between the caramel tasting or chocolate tasting,” Gaius mutters next to Lin, his face still buried in the oversized menu and Musee starts laughing.  
  
“Oh I didn’t even notice, you invited _him_ too,” she says, flagging the waitress down ordering a bottle of Riesling, (‘yes for myself’ she clarifies) and turns back to Gaius, yanking the menu out of his hands. “How are you doing Mr. Outway?” She asks, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest, breasts popping out of the top of her low cut top.  
  
“Well, thank you,” he replies, folding his glasses and putting them in their case, tucking it back into his jacket. “And yourself?”  
  
The waitress returns and uncorks the wine, pouring a half-glass before departing and Musee picks it up, “Better now that I have this.”  
  
Lin narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like Musee very much. She’s excessively flirty and invasive, even more than her younger (by a solid eight minutes) sister, and in comparison lacked a lot of direction, spending time idly floating through life using her family’s wealth and status to get what she wanted. “How do you know each other?”  
  
Musee giggles, reaching her hand out to grab Gaius by the wrist, “Oh you didn’t tell him? Naughty,” she scolds, taking a long sip of her wine and Lin crinkles his nose at her sweet selection, then he shoots a glare at Gaius.  
  
“Stop it, “ Gaius replies, tugging his sleeve away.  
  
“I asked how you two know each other,” Lin snaps, looping his arm around Gaius’ forearm who just sighs heavily in response.  
  
“I’m his secretary,” she laughs and she nearly spills her glass, Ludger catching it in time, holding it for her. “What did _you_ think, hm?”  
  
Lin isn’t sure how to reply, except to maybe take the wine away from her and instead tightens his grip around Gaius’ arm. Gaius stares straight ahead, his features set in an unreadable impassive expression. Jill ends up ordering wine for the entire table muttering under her breath that they already needed something stronger than water and it’s not even seven—the time her reservation is scheduled to begin.  
  
“Which reminds me Arst,” Milla says, grabbing the glass from Ludger and Musee looks incensed that her drink’s been held hostage, “Did you have a chance to read those reports on the data? I emailed them a week ago.”  
  
Gaius frowns, “I was having difficulty opening the attachments, but yes, I managed to look at them—“  
  
“Wait, wait,” Lin shakes his head and points at Milla, “and how do you know—“ he stops mid sentence and it clicks. Milla’s nudge. Musee’s teasing. The business trips, Aston Martin, expensive dinner dates, and it all starts falling together as he slowly connects the dots. After a few moments he says, “You’re Arst Outway.”  
  
“I am, I do believe we established this weeks prior—“  
  
“No, no. You’re Arst Outway.” Lin repeats again, like he’s somehow figured out the secrets of the universe. No one says anything, and they just stare at Lin incredulously. Jill takes an unnecessarily theatrical drink of wine before elbowing him in the ribs. He glares at her.  
  
“Are we going somewhere with this?” She asks, finally, checking her phone, responding to a text message. “Because Nadia’s here and I’d like this evening to be significantly less dramatic than every other year I’ve been here.”  
  
Jill did have a point. Last year, Alvin had suggested they ‘take a break’ after New Years, but before Valentines Day, and then still made an appearance at the restaurant unannounced, saying that he figured he was still invited. Lin tried to get her to at least reconsider going home with him, but she didn’t listen. She was her own woman, after all.  
  
But he isn’t thinking clearly and finally he turns to Gaius, shifting in his seat, “You’re the CEO of Taurus, and you—you,” he points an accusing finger in Milla’s direction, who just raises an eyebrow and looks at the Riesling in her hand with distaste. Musee reaches across Ludger and snatches it from her sister. “You knew. You both knew! You set me up. That’s why you—and no, you’re not getting a story,“ Gaius tugs Lin back into his chair and he isn’t sure when he stood up in the first place.  
  
“Don’t mention it, you can thank me later,” Milla says with a wry smile, waving a hand in his direction. His blood is boiling and there’s nothing he wants to do more than to reach across the table, shake her pretty blonde head and ask her what the hell she meant by that, but he refrains. Out of respect for Jill and her birthday, mostly.  
  
It’s only when he actually sees Nadia entering the restaurant that he wonders how Jill knows her, considering she’s an undergraduate. But almost immediately he thinks back to a few weeks ago, the familiar Cheshire grin across her face in the background of a Snapchat video and just asks, “Pirate night?”  
  
Ludger blushes deeply again, Musee cackles, and Milla and Jill nod simultaneously, “Pirate night.”  
  
Jill lowers her voice to a whisper and adds, “Besides, I had to get more friends than just you. What with all your little sleepovers.”  
  
“If I’m lucky, there isn’t much sleeping,” he replies under his breath and Gaius chokes on his wine, coughing loudly.  
  
Nadia’s wearing a red dress over black thigh high socks and her hair is delicately curled around her face, soft waves framing her round cheeks dotted with faint freckles, red eyes alight with fire. Leia’s trailing behind her, flowers decorating her short brown hair, long-sleeved sheer white dress over a strapless pink top and skirt, and she points excitedly at the decorations.  
  
“You know they’re both eighteen, right?” Lin says to Jill, and she just shrugs.  
  
“They were twenty-one when I met them,” she merely hums in reply. He looks to Milla to support him on this and she just reads the menu, biting back a smile, pointing at several of the tasting options with Ludger.  
  
“How’s it feel being over the hill?” Nadia asks Jill, tossing a present wrapped in blue paper on the table in front of her. “And who invited grandpa?” She gestures in Gaius’ direction.  
  
“You mean Gaius—er, Arst?” Lin asks, moving the present down the table.  
  
“Nah, I was talking about you, princess,” she says, and Gaius laughs loudly, slowing to a chuckle and eventually masking it with a cough when Lin scowls at him.  
  
“She’s funny,” he mutters, sipping his water, avoiding eye contact. Lin frowns, but places his order anyway.  
  
For a diverse group of people, and a rather rough start to the night, the rest of dinner progresses with as little interruption as possible. Almost - Lin thinks bitterly - fun, in fact. Lin doesn’t want to admit that he’s actually enjoying everyone’s company, but he is, and being surrounded by this many people could honestly be a worse way to spend his time.

Prior to arriving, Leia had somehow managed to con Ludger into letting her guest blog about the restaurant for _Culinary Dropout_ (‘for the free food,’ she clarified, reaching across the table, swiping part of Lin’s entrée), and she spent most of her time taking detailed notes, scribbling on the surface of a tablet with a stylus, sometimes pausing to ask questions about everyone else’s selections, a few times asking Ludger what a synonym for delicious was—or how to identify the flavors of a particular dish. Eventually, Ludger just takes the tablet from her and writes it himself. She resigns herself to drinking wine (‘you’re underage,’ Lin had said, trying to take it from her, but she stuck her tongue out and ignored him).  
  
In fact, it had gone so well that Milla and Gaius even had to congratulate Musee for not being drunk before dessert, and casually smuggled the rest of the Riesling bottle away from her to keep up her good work. Jill helped herself to what was left.  
  
“Well, I’ve already resigned myself to ‘drunk mom,’” she says, dumping the rest into her wine glass, white wine turning a faint shade of pink from what was left of the red from earlier. Ludger nearly comments on the mixing of alcohol but chooses not to say anything and resolves to simply regarding the glass the with a decent amount of distaste.  
  
“Hm, if you’re a drunk mom, what am I?” Musee asks thoughtfully, leaning precariously against the table, her long hair falling onto the tablecloth, coming quite close to the candles in the center.

“A liability,” Gaius mutters, blowing out the flame and moving it away from her.  
  
“Wino,” Nadia says into her water glass, and Lin laughs. Musee doesn’t look amused and sticks her tongue out.  
  
“No, no,” Jill says, waving her hand frantically. Her cheeks are flushed and she isn’t doing too well at aiming where her hand is going, lightly slapping Lin in the face a few times. Eventually he grabs her wrist and holds it still, “You’re- you’re a drunk mom with me. Be my drunk mom.”  
  
Musee laughs and their conversation is interrupted momentarily.  
  
“Alvin no—“ Someone says, and a look of panic crosses Lin and Jill’s faces when they hear the name. Before they can do anything, there’s a familiar hand on both of their shoulders and the overpowering scent of just a little too much cologne, bottom of a scarf dangling between them.  
  
“Alvin,” the same voice groans, muffled this time, and Lin shoves Alvin’s hand off his arm, scooting in his seat a little to look behind him, finding Jude Mathis’ face completely buried in his hands, standing five or so feet behind the other man. 

They’re both nicely dressed, Alvin’s overcoat is hanging over his arm, and he has a tendency to wear a scarf instead of a tie. He told Lin once that he felt like he was choking whenever he had to wear a regular tie. Lin thought it was stupid then and thinks it’s stupid now.

Trying not to look at him too long, he pauses for a moment, “What is that thing on your face?”  
  
“I’m assuming you’re referring to my beard. Jealous, Lin?” He teases, nudging him in the side, and Lin just groans and picks up his wine glass. “By the way, happy birthday.”  
  
“Why are you here?” Jill asks, narrowing her eyes.  
  
“And Mathis, why are _you_ here?” Lin asks, “With this?” He gestures to Alvin, who shoots him a smirk and runs a hand through his brown hair.  
  
“Yes Jude, I’m rather curious myself,” Milla says, cutting her entrée up into delicate bites, refusing to take her eyes off of Jude, “Wouldn’t everyone else agree?”  
  
“Yeah, what gives?” Leia pipes in, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“Oh now _this_ should be interesting, tell us Jude,” Musee giggles.  
  
Alvin pauses and drags Jude to the edge of the table where he’s standing, pushing his hands away from his face, “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew everyone sitting at this table, I stand corrected,” he frowns then makes a grand sweeping motion to the restaurant, “Well, I’m here to enjoy the finest French food in the city. Sometimes you just want foie gras and caviar, right?”  
  
Jude buries his face in his hands again and says through his fingers, voice muffled, “Please sweet death, cradle me in your gentle embrace. What did I do to deserve this?”  
  
“That,” Jill replies, pointing at Alvin, who shoots her a wink and a smile in return and she closes her eyes, placing her fingers on her temple, trying to ignore him. Jude turns a brilliant shade of red and stammers something incomprehensible. Nothing out of his mouth makes much sense and the entire table looks at him, judgment in their eyes.  
  
“Well, as nice as catching up has been, we have our own reservation to make, c’mon kid,” Alvin says, putting his arm around Jude’s shoulder and steering him toward the opposite corner of the restaurant, allowing him to keep at least a little dignity.  
  
“I gave him an A, too,” Lin says into his wine glass, “Between the meme shirts, his tardiness, and now this, I should’ve failed him.” He looks over at Gaius, who’s been silent the entire time, expression of distaste on his features. Laughing a little, Lin asks, “You okay?”  
  
Gaius looks thoughtful for a moment before replying, “I’m at this strange intersection between my personal and private life and my employees’ personal and private lives. But don’t worry about me, how’s Jill doing?”  
  
“Fucking fantastic,” she says, raising her glass above her head in acknowledgement, the entire remaining contents of the Riesling ready for consumption. “I’m ready to forget this and go into a chocolate coma.”  
  
*  
  
The ride back to the apartment consisted mostly of Jill passed out in the backseat of the Aston Martin, blonde hair spilled all over the back of the seat. Lin didn’t know whether it was the food or the alcohol that had sedated her completely, but didn’t complain that he had the front seat available to him again and took it with glee, turning the seat heater on to full blast.  
  
Post-Alvin, the evening still managed to be salvaged, even when she had flipped Alvin off across the restaurant in a drunken stupor, escaped Lin’s grasp, and walked over to his table to tell him to fuck off and take a piece of their bread. He let it slide because Alvin had looked honestly shocked and Milla let it slide because she said she’d never seen Jude look so mortified in his entire life.  
  
By the time they arrived home, Gaius and Lin made the executive decision not to wake her, and Gaius carefully carried her up to the apartment. He worried that he looked like he’d kidnapped some random woman and Lin said that it wouldn’t be the first time and it certainly won’t be the last she’d been too drunk to move.  
  
“I like your friends,” Gaius says, standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He looks almost out of place, the antique apartment constructed for people of much smaller stature and size, arms folded across his broad chest, biceps straining the material of his suit jacket.  
  
“Uh-huh, and I’m still mad at you for going without even asking about my feelings,” Lin replies, using Gaius’ forearm as leverage and kissing him on the cheek, “Are you heading out?”  
  
“I don’t know, am I?” He replies, corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. Lin flushes a little and tries to think of something quickly.  
  
“Well, um, I don’t know. We could watch a movie or something, you don’t have to leave just yet, I guess,” he says hastily. Gaius doesn’t respond and Lin takes it as an acceptance to his invitation, dragging Gaius by his hand to their sofa, pushing him back against the cushions, plopping on the seat next to him.  
  
They argue about movies for a while, trying to decide what they want to watch. Lin prefers cheesy B-grade horror movies and cult classics (he leaves out his obsession with teen comedies) and Gaius likes action adventure and has a “fond place” for romantic-comedy. Lin refuses to watch the latter. They end up agreeing on a political drama they’d both been meaning to see, but haven’t found the time. It might’ve not been the _best_ romantic choice, but it made sense for them.

About ten minutes into the movie, neither of them are paying attention, and at about twenty minutes into the movie, Lin’s straddling Gaius’ hips, pushing his suit jacket from his body, unbuttoning his dress shirt with much more care. At forty minutes, Lin’s lying completely flat against Gaius’ body, and Gaius’ hands are down Lin’s pants, and when the movie hits the top of the first hour, they’re not even in living room anymore.

Lin is straddling his hips and pulling Gaius’s pants along down his thighs agonizingly slowly, admiring how he complains and tosses his head, his hair softly falling over the back pillows. He doesn’t hear Gaius whine often, but here he is, complaining about he had suffered through dinner for this.  
  
“Quit it,” he hisses, and Lin just drags his nails along the side of his body and uses his teeth to tug on the corner of his underwear, biting on his exposed hip. Gaius wraps a hand in his hair and yanks as hard as he’s able to, “I said, quit it.”  
  
Smirking, he bites Gaius again, harder, this time, and Lin hears a very sharp inhale as Gaius tugs on Lin’s ebon locks, “You’re just so used to being in control, aren’t you?” Lin asks, shifting his position so he’s kneeling on Gaius’ thighs, pressing his hands against his shoulders, digging his nails into his skin, “Is it that hard for you to give it up?” Their faces are pressed close together and Gaius looks almost perplexed at the situation, with Lin ripping at his neck.  
  
“I—No, I—“ and Lin kisses him as forcefully as he’s able to, tearing at his lips and tongue, effectively silencing him. They stay together like that for some time, Lin eventually pulling back, chest heaving, taking in sharp breaths, running his hands along the curve of Gaius’ abdominal muscles, knees still digging into Gaius’ body.

Lin shifts his body and positions himself with his knees pressed against the other man's shoulders, sliding a finger into Gaius’ underwear and pulling them over Gaius’ legs, "I wanna feel you moan underneath me," Lin says, voice ragged and touched with a thirst that Lin isn’t sure anyone else had ever borne witness to.  
  
He knows that Gaius can’t move his body. Sometimes he'd writhe beneath him, trying to break free, but Lin just chuckles and tightens the grip he has on his biceps with his thighs. He can feel his cock dripping and brushing against Gaius’ mouth, and it makes him painfully hard and he loves this position because Gaius can suck him off as hard as he wanted while Lin had the ability to do the same.  
  
Running his tongue on the top side of Gaius’ shaft, Lin takes him in as slowly as possible, thrusting his hips into Gaius’ face—a not so subtle reminder to afford him the same courtesy. Gaius doesn’t say anything and stops struggling, tongue swirling against his head and _fucking hell_ Lin thinks, is Gaius teasing him? 

“I think I made myself quite clear,” Lin says around Gaius’ thick cock, words muffled around the length, and bucks his hips forward, forcing himself further down Gaius’ throat, catching himself moaning when Gaius grunts. He didn’t know that Gaius could take all of him, and it catches him off guard when his cock hits the back of Gaius’ throat and his eyes widen in surprise. Lin isn’t able to support his weight and he drops against Gaius’ body, releasing the hold on Gaius’ biceps.  
  
Not wasting a second, Gaius pulls his arms out from underneath Lin and wraps them around Lin’s thighs, and as much as he hates himself, Lin finds himself emitting a small moan of concession when Gaius’ moves his mouth away from Lin's cock, choosing instead to press his tongue against his entrance, and circles a few times before slipping inside of him. A jolt of pleasure courses through Lin's veins, and he wants him _so fucking bad_.  
  
So he does the only thing he can think of in his present state and takes Gaius back into his mouth, matching his rhythm and pace. Gaius makes a noise of pleasure buried inside of him and it sends shivers up his spine. He’s gone down on Gaius before, but never like this. Never with his knees around Gaius’ chest, ass spread and his cock aching with a need and a desire that Gaius owns fully and wholly.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Gaius exhales against his skin, and Lin doesn’t reply, just takes more of Gaius in his mouth. He has a difficult time controlling his actions when he’s completely wrecked, panting and sucking, trying to focus his attention on Gaius, and not the hand that’s slowly snaking around his hips to Lin’s cock and the complete desperation coming from his lips but it’s hard and his mind is fogged, running on auto, commanding his mouth to obey him.  
  
He’s making stifled noises, physically choking himself on Gaius’ cock, and Lin isn’t going to last much longer, several ‘fucks’ and ‘oh gods’ escaping his lips, and Gaius isn’t faring much better behind him, repeatedly telling Lin how much he loves seeing him lose control. Lin doesn’t know if he comes first or if it’s Gaius releasing into his mouth and he just instinctively swallows, stickiness developing between their bodies.  
  
“Fucking Christ,” Lin manages to say after several moments, rolling off Gaius’ body, moving his head to the pillows, “You’re crazy.”  
  
Gaius only laughs in reply, wrapping his arms around Lin’s body, “I wouldn’t do that for just anyone.” Lin just nuzzles into his neck and inhales his scent, the strong powerful smell of his cologne a familiarity. He can hear Gaius’ heartbeat pounding against his chest and his breathing is labored above him and he loves every minute of their nasty mess of sweaty bodies and semen, closing his eyes.  
  
Lin thinks about opening his mouth to reply, but can’t think of anything to say and instead just drifts into sleep, forgetting about the state of their bodies and smatter of clothing in the living room.

*  
  
If it weren’t the incessant alarm on his phone, the banging on the door of his bedroom door would’ve woken him up. He jolts upright with a start, blankets falling off his naked torso, and kicks Gaius under the sheets for extra measure, not sure how he could sleep through the rabble. Gaius just grunts and rolls over, taking most of the comforter with him, his tattooed arm haphazardly thrown over his head.  
  
“Bacon,” is the only thing he hears from the opposite side of the door, “I need bacon,” Jill finishes, smacking her palm against the wood several more times before he finally gives up and throws a pair of sweatpants on, running his fingers through his hair to try and smooth it down a little. 

He opens the door a crack and pokes his head out, hissing under his breath, “It’s five in the fucking morning, what do you want?”  
  
“Bacon,” Jill replies, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe water, but I don’t know.” She’s not wearing a bra underneath her tank top and Lin leans over to adjust the neck of her shirt from exposing too much, crinkling his nose when she still smells quite strongly of wine and vodka.  
  
He’s about to reply to her, tell her to go drink some water, take some ibuprofen and go back to bed, but he’s interrupted by Gaius mumbling behind him, voice groggy and laced with sleep, “Bacon sounds nice.” Lin turns around to see him sitting up, sheets wrapped around his hips, long black hair tangled, with portions sticking out in odd angles. Trying to suppress a laugh, Lin smiles at the sight. 

“If that’s what you want,” Lin replies, mostly to Gaius, but it’s enough for Jill, and she leaves to go change. 

Clamoring out of bed, Gaius borrows a robe from Lin and kisses him on the lips, his breath a combination of stale sex and nighttime slumber. Deciding not to complain, Lin kisses him back and leads him out of the room to start on fulfilling Jill’s ridiculous request.  
  
About ten minutes later, she’s back in the living room, seated on the sofa with Gaius, hair brushed and in a ponytail, bra fully on underneath her pajamas, flipping through the mail with little interest. Gaius is checking his email on his phone, asking a few questions here and there about how to manage a particular function on his mobile device while Lin throws several strips of bacon in the pan, tying Jill’s bedazzled cat apron around his neck.  
  
“Oh, you got a letter from the university,” Jill calls, and Lin turns around, leaning against the bar.  
  
“Yeah, what did it say?” He asks, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.  
  
“Uhh let’s see,” she scans the page, and Gaius looks over the document with interest, “Just confirming your thesis defense and time. Beginning of next month in the Discovery building—the one you selected.”  
  
Lin pauses for a minute before returning to the frying pan, flipping the bacon over with a bright blue spatula, “Oh,” he manages to say, staring at the sizzling bits of fat with interest. He’d nearly forgot that he was graduating in a few months and he chews on the corner of his lip, looking back toward the living room.  
  
“I’d love to go,” Gaius remarks, smiling brilliantly, his straight teeth shining in the dim morning light. Lin fights the twinge on his lips.  
  
“Yeah, yeah sure,” he replies, and doesn’t bring up the subject again, transferring the bacon to a paper towel, throwing more on the burner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much!!


	10. Prix Fixe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jude really can't catch a break, poor kid.

Alvin’s cock hits the back of this throat, and Jude coughs, glancing upward and suppressing his eye roll when Alvin smirks and bucks his hips, shoving his entire length further down Jude’s throat.

He finds himself doing a lot to keep Alvin happy, but he knows deep down that there isn’t any obligation. There’s nothing keeping him kneeling in between Alvin’s legs in his underwear and an oversized t-shirt from Alvin’s undergraduate fraternity, there’s nothing that’s forcing him to run his mouth down the underside of his shaft, deliberately taking his time, and there’s nothing compelling him to moan like a whore when Alvin pauses the video game and jerks his raven locks, wordless command to increase his pace.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’ll do this,” Alvin says, voice breathy and heavy and releases his grip on Jude’s hair once Jude complies and resumes pressing buttons on his controller, shooting mindlessly at the enemies on the screen.  
  
Pulling back, Jude swirls his tongue around the head of his cock, moving a hand to massage the base, “Mm, you asked.” Jude would be lying if he said it isn’t a _little_ degrading, but he’d also be lying if he said that he didn’t like it, knees sore and imprinted with the texture of the living room carpet, saliva dripping from his lips to his chin, indulging Alvin’s ridiculous fantasy.  
  
“Fuck, ah—yeah, good boy,” Jude hears above him, and Alvin’s hand is back in his hair, but somehow he’s still managing to control his avatar, battle noises still streaming out through the surround sound speakers. Sliding Alvin’s cock down his throat, he takes him as deep as he’s able to, and he knows that Alvin’s close, his hands shoving down on Jude’s head, nails digging into his scalp, fingers pulling desperately at his hair.

Waiting for Alvin to finish, Jude does the polite thing and swallows, even if Alvin expects it from him by now. Jude tries to slow his breathing and he rests his head on Alvin’s thighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand unceremoniously.

The back of his throat is starting to burn, his jaw feels like it’s been dislocated, his tongue is heavy and sore and his knees are definitely bruised from sliding around on the rug and he glances up at Alvin from the corner of his eye, somehow managing to force a smile, “That took forever.”  
  
Alvin doesn’t really make a move to zip up his pants, and keeps hitting the RT button on his controller to shoot, headset around his neck and says, “Distracted.” He’d somehow succeeded in continuing the mission he’s currently engaged in on his console, not missing a single beat as his gun tatters every so often. “Wasn’t my best idea.”  
  
“Yeah, I could’ve told you that,” Jude laughs under his breath.  
  
“Wanna try playing?” Alvin asks, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the screen.   
  
Jude snorts and forces his tired body to stand up, dropping himself on the opposite side of the sofa, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table, “I have homework to do, it’s fine.”  
  
It’s the truth. Alvin just shrugs and keeps pressing controls. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on after he showered, damp brown hair clinging to his face and collarbone, slicked back away from his face. There’s a silver cross with a skull and a crown dangling from his neck, and Jude watches the muscles in his upper arms flex whenever he jerks the controller around, getting frustrated with whatever he’s doing on the screen—Jude’s too distracted by his body to pay attention to the game.  
  
Opening up the school’s homepage, Jude selects a class from his dropdown list, annoyed that the course websites never seem to actually work when they need to and clicks on the syllabus to check what assignments are due the following week. School had been in session what felt like only a few weeks, but somehow midterms were swiftly approaching, scheduled for the beginning of March.  
  
There’s an odd discrepancy between the relative unfamiliarity Jude feels in his classes, still trying to grasp the material and the content and the relative familiarity he feels waking up in Alvin’s bed several times a week. Both started around the same time, and yet there was much more uncertainty involved with deciding that you wanted to sleep with a virtual stranger rather than completing advanced coursework in subjects you’re already acquainted with.

But he doesn’t dwell on it too long, and chews the end of his pen as he balances his laptop and notebook on his thighs, the chemistry homework bright on his computer screen. He works for a while before he’s interrupted by a loud bang as Alvin throws the controller on the ground with force.  
  
“Fuck this game,” he mutters, standing up and (finally) buttons his jeans, making his way to the bar cabinet in the back of the living room, dumping some scotch into a glass, foregoing the ice, and shooting it down his throat.

Jude watches him curiously for a little, finally going back to his laptop, staring vacantly at the homework. It had been hard to focus when Alvin was topless next to him on the couch, but now he’s wandering around the apartment, pants low slung on his hips. Jude still has the taste of him lingering in his mouth, and he bites on the end of his pen a little harder, trying to ignore him. That is, until he feels Alvin behind him, end of his necklace brushing the top of Jude’s head.  
  
“Hey,” Alvin says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Jude’s shoulders, nuzzling into his neck, whispering softly in his ear, “Wanna go out?” Grabbing Alvin by his forearm, Jude tries to push him away, not really putting any effort into his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to go, but it’s a sensitive subject for Jude, and he usually shoots it down. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to be seen with Alvin or that he is embarrassed, but all the expensive dinners in the world aren’t going to change that the only reason he’s sitting on Alvin’s couch is because of his body.

“We’re not—we’re not dating,” Jude replies, but it’s more of an affirmation, holding on to Alvin’s wrist, and Alvin laughs into the side of Jude’s face, kissing his cheek.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” his voice is deep and rumbles into Jude’s skin and it sends shivers down his spine as his breath graces his ear. Alvin slides his hands down Jude’s torso, fingers hooking inside the waistband of Jude’s underwear. “Why don’t you take that cute ass of yours upstairs and put some pants on, hm?”  
  
“I guess. Where do you want to go?” Jude tries to swat Alvin away, but he’s persistent, and hangs on to his body tightly, nipping at the skin on Jude’s neck. Alvin’s chin is rough and scratchy—he’s been growing a beard out recently, citing no particular reason, but Jude did note it was sometime after he had made an offhand comment about how he liked men with facial hair.  
  
Alvin pauses, thoughtful, “There’s a place I haven’t been to in awhile, over in midtown.” His hands have completely made it into Jude’s briefs by this point, and as much as he tried to resist earlier, all he can do is lean his head back into the crook of Alvin’s neck and make a small moan.  
  
“Fine, but don’t, you know, pay for me or anything,” he says, Alvin finally releasing him from his iron grip, and Jude manages to scramble out of the couch, making his way up the winding staircase in the back of the living room.  
  
*  
  
Jude stands by the door of the Audi, fidgeting with the hem of his coat, scarf wrapped around his neck, hat pulled as far over his dark hair and ears as he can manage as Alvin tosses the keys to the valet. The temperature had been in the low 20s all week with sporadic snow fall and it was about the point in the year that he felt like he’d never see the sun again, blistering winds and chill omnipresent.  
  
“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” Alvin says, grabbing Jude around his hips, dragging him to the entrance of the building and into an elevator. When they arrive at the top floor, the room is brightly decorated, warm and inviting. It only takes him a moment to register where they are, spotting a pair of iconic blue doors, distinctive lettering on the outside of its frame. So _that’s_ why he was told to dress nicely.  
  
“Alvin!” He hisses as Alvin guides them to the hostess’ station, “This is too expensive I—“  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” the man replies, releasing him as he provides his name to the woman behind the counter.

She taps on her tablet before saying, perhaps the four-hundredth time that evening, “And tonight we’re doing a nine course prix fixe menu,” looking up she asks, “Will that be alright?”

“What—“  
  
“That’ll be fine,” Alvin cuts him off, and for a second Jude thinks about running back to the elevator and out the front door, but almost as though Alvin anticipated his reaction, there’s a strong hand gripping his upper arm that isn’t going to let go until they’re seated at the dinner table.  
  
“And do you prefer white or rosé for your champagne selection tonight?”  
  
“White,” Jude replies firmly before Alvin can say anything, “and I don’t care what’s on the prix fixe menu, I want the best available,” he finishes, glaring out of the corner of his eye at Alvin, who just shrugs and agrees. If he’s going to sit through this ridiculous dinner, he’s not about to do it with mediocre liquor and he’s going to make Alvin pay for tricking him.  
  
Jude doesn’t say another word until they’re seated at a table that overlooks the city, tucked into a dimly lit corner, and the waiter returns with their drinks, popping the cork on the champagne bottle, placing it in an ice bucket at the head of the table. Jude knows that they won’t bother carding him at such an expensive restaurant and makes no move to deny the alcohol sitting in front of him.

The waiter takes their orders and as he says slyly, any _special_ requests, Alvin telling him to upgrade it to the supplemental options and leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, “Alright, let me have it.”  
  
Coughing through his unnecessarily long gulps of champagne, he sputters, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? After Jill’s birthday I told you that we should probably, you know, scale it back a little. And then,” he makes a wide gesture at the dining room, “this?”  
  
“Woah, hold up there kid,” he leans over and plucks the flute out of Jude’s hand, “This isn’t cheap vodka at a holiday party, don’t disrespect such a fine drink.”  
  
“Excuse—“  
  
“And so what? It’s good food at one of the best places in the city. Enjoy it, brag about it. It’s a great experience,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips, grinning widely. 

Alvin knows that Jude has a hard time resisting his smile and any anger he felt bubbling inside disappears, “I-I guess,” Jude replies, averting his gaze and makes a disgruntled noise into his champagne flute, Alvin chuckling at him, tapping his foot against Jude’s lightly under the table.

They refrain from active conversation and lapse into a comfortable silence, watching the string quartet play in a corner of the restaurant. Sometimes, couples would approach the quartet and request songs, and others would slow dance to their favorite selections, heads resting on their partner’s shoulders. Alvin makes an offhand comment about dedicating a song to Jude while they enjoyed a course of oysters and pearls and Jude tries to hide the flush across his cheeks, telling him to cut it out.  
  
“You know why I want to go out all the time?” Alvin asks, pointing his fork at Jude, slice of wagyu beef dangling precariously from the end.  
  
“Enlighten me,” Jude replies, trying to empty the rest of the contents of the champagne bottle in his glass and frowns when nothing comes out. He reaches across the table and grabs Alvin’s glass, clutching it like it’s the last one the face of the planet.  His limbs feel especially heavy and he knows he hasn’t had enough to eat, prix fixe menu a selection of small (but delicious) portions.  
  
“You’re pretty,” Alvin says, shrugging, “I like beauty. I like designer clothes, a well-decorated home, nice car, etcetera—first impressions are lasting. You’re pretty good arm candy.”  
  
Hiccupping from downing the rest of Alvin’s champagne Jude says, “I’m a person, not a thing.”  
  
“Maybe I didn’t word that the right way.”  
  
Jude snorts, “No, probably not. But I get it. It’s just that,” he shifts his gaze to the string quartet, “you can’t show off something that isn’t yours.”  
  
“Guess I’ve always been a rebel,” Alvin laughs, stabbing another piece of wagyu off his plate, and Jude can’t even find it within himself to be mad at Alvin, because there’s a part inside of him that likes it when they’re seen together. It validates his choices. It validates his actions. It tricks him into thinking this isn’t irresponsible. It keeps his mind off the thought he might get hurt.   
  
Jude thinks about it for a split second, then drops the topic quickly and they talk offhand about nothing in particular, more focused on the array of courses. At the end of the meal, a spread of miniature dessert samplings is brought out with two glasses containing a fair amount of cognac. Alvin nudges his alcohol to Jude, telling him he has to drive, and Jude manages to drink both of them, coughing a little at the taste.  
  
“It’s strong,” Jude says, and he’s gripping on to the edge of the table, feeling like he’s falling backwards, but he knows that ridiculous. Rooms don’t move on their own.  
  
“It’s a type of brandy,” Alvin replies, pulling his black credit card out of the holder, signing his name at the bottom of the receipt, signature in a surprisingly delicate cursive, “You know, your champagne cost more than your food.”  
  
Jude hums in reply, leaning across the table, “You think I’m worth it, right?”

Alvin taps him on the nose and Jude starts laughing hysterically. “We need to get you home,” Alvin sighs, standing up and wrapping his arm around Jude’s waist, keeping him upright, escorting him out of the restaurant and into the elevator despite Jude insisting that he’s fine.  
  
But Jude isn’t fine, and he knows it because almost as soon as the doors shut, Jude shoves Alvin into the corner and stands on his tiptoes, kissing him hard on the mouth, pulling him close by the scarf tied around Alvin’s neck. Alvin wraps his arms tightly around him in response and yanks their bodies together, fingers feeling his way down Jude’s back.  
  
“You better take me to bed after this,” Jude breathes against his lips, and Alvin gives a small murmur of agreement.  
  
*  
  
“Don’t—don’t make me move,” Jude says, lying with his back on the bed. He doesn’t remember making it all the way up here, but infers that it must’ve happened. The alcohol hit him like a wave on the drive home, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick, making Alvin pull to the curb so he could hang with his head out of the car door, passerby shooting him judgmental looks.  
  
The wall paneling is open and the skyline sparkles behind the floor-to-ceiling windows and Alvin doesn’t reply, just drags Jude to the side of the bed, legs dangling over the edge and strips off both their clothing, discarding it behind him. Jude had been less than decorous in the car ride home, going between teasing him while Alvin tried to catch the clutch and shift gears in the Audi and complaining that he’d overindulged at dinner and felt sick.  
  
“I’m not, don’t worry,” Alvin replies, leaning over his body, teasing a nipple with his tongue, moving his hands to touch Jude between his legs, “You sure you want this?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Jude nods and moans, squirming underneath the weight of Alvin’s body. He wants to kiss him, touch him, but his limbs feel like they’re made of lead and he can’t do anything but lie there practically immobilized.  
  
Alvin pauses for a moment and opens the nightstand drawer, coming back to bite his neck. One hand is on Jude’s cock and the other is popping a bottle cap, opening Jude’s legs and sliding his fingers inside of him. He chuckles lightly against Jude’s neck, “Doesn’t matter how many times I do this, you’re still so goddamn tight.”  
  
“Nn,” Jude tries to move his own hand to shove more of Alvin inside of him, but misses, fingers lightly gracing Alvin’s shoulder instead. “You, I want you.” His own cock is hard and dripping with an eagerness that Alvin’s the only one that’s brought out in him—he doesn’t remember ever feeling this way before with anyone else.  
  
“If you insist,” he says, standing up, wrapping one of Jude’s legs around his hips, positioning himself and moaning as he entered Jude, grabbing the other of Jude’s legs, leaning against them as he thrust deeper inside. “I like you from this angle,” he comments, “I feel like I’m always—shit, I’m always fucking you from behind. Though that angle’s nice, too.”

Jude’s having a hard time processing what he’s said, but in a way, he thinks it’s nice, and doesn’t know what to do with his arms, reaching for the pillow, clutching it tightly. He’s not above making humiliating noises, however, guttural cries emitting from his slack jaw. “Hard—ah, oh god, harder.”  
  
Alvin doesn’t reply, just tightens his hold on Jude’s thighs, nails digging up and down his skin, raised marks lying their wake, and shoves into him harder and harder until Jude’s whimpers resonate off the walls of Alvin’s bedroom. Alvin’s brown eyes are staring directly into Jude’s and the intensity behind them is almost terrifying, a desire burning in his irises that’s both familiar and alien all at the same time.  
  
“You like taking it, don’t you?” Alvin asks, but there’s a disconnect between his actions and the meaningless words that echo listlessly off the walls of the bedroom. He’s so close to Jude and Jude can smell his cologne, notes of spice and amber mixed with the musk of his sweat the scent both intimate and comfortable.  
  
“Yeah,” Jude breathes, voice sounding strange to himself and he feels a sinking pit in his stomach and briefly admires Alvin, hair falling into his eyes, toned muscles contorting before staring up at the ceiling. Jude’s having a difficult time thinking in his present state, pleasure surging through his veins, haze of alcohol limiting his cognitive functioning, but there’s something different about the way Alvin fucks him, and he tries not to dwell on it too long, the rocking motion starting to make him sick.  
  
Alvin throws Jude’s legs over his shoulders and kneels on the bed, body falling forward, and puts his hands on either side of Jude’s head. Jude’s nearly bent in half, and he thinks it’s sexy the way his knees touch his own shoulders, and he forces himself to wrap his arms around Alvin, dragging his nails in large sweeping motions across his back.  
  
It surprises him when Alvin’s lips are on his own, and the raw lust burning in the bottom of Jude’s gut is replaced with an unfamiliar warmth and even through his fog of inebriation he kisses back, grip around Alvin’s neck tightening. 

Alvin’s moaning in Jude’s mouth and Jude knows he’s close, his rhythm getting faster with each thrust, and Jude holds on to his body, vision still turning around and around. Alvin strengthens his grip and comes inside of him, and for the first time, Jude thinks, moans his name. He collapses against Jude’s chest, inhaling sharply, and Jude feels his heartbeat racing behind his rib cage.  
  
“You didn’t get off,” Alvin says after a few moments, pulling his torso up, face hovering above Jude’s.  
  
“I’m drunk,” is all Jude replies with, “I think it was good.”  
  
“You’re hopeless,” Alvin murmurs, kissing his cheek a few times before sliding off his body. He kneels between Jude’s legs and buries his head in Jude’s thighs, running his tongue on the underside of Jude’s cock, still hard, “I don’t do this enough.”  
  
Alvin’s mouth is sliding lower on his shaft and he’s having trouble focusing his mind, a familiar surge running through his body. But it isn’t pleasure. It’s something else.

Jude shoves Alvin out of his lap and somehow manages to sit up on his elbows, room swirling and spinning. He’s not able to focus his vision and feels completely sick, wave of nausea coursing through his body. His mouth is salivating intensely and his throat begins to tighten.  
  
“You okay?” Alvin asks, running his hands down Jude’s hips, kissing his inner thigh gently, still kneeling between his legs.  
  
“No,” Jude replies bluntly, holding on to Alvin’s shoulders keeping upright, “I’m—I’m gonna,” and without finishing his sentence, he launches out of the bed and rushes to the attached bathroom, throwing open the lid of the toilet. He drops to his knees on the rug and grips the sides of the bowl, staring at his reflection in the water. Jude’s eyes are watering and his mouth is salivating and his stomach lurches like he’d been punched in the gut and he throws up, contents of a $500 prix fixe menu bidding a greeting to the city sewers.  
  
He starts to cough, and through his fit he hears the door creek open behind him, Alvin standing in the entrance, “Hey kid, you gonna be alright?”  
  
Shaking his head, he wretches over the toilet again, his body beginning to shake, and Alvin kneels next to him, running his hand up and down Jude’s spine in a reassuring manner, “This fucking sucks,” Jude blurts, heaving again.  
  
“You’re a mess,” Alvin says, holding back a laugh, rubbing Jude’s shoulders. His grip is firm and his body feels so warm next to him, and Jude can’t help but fall back and collide with Alvin’s bare torso, his arms wrapping around Alvin, letting his head fall against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat in his ear.

“I know,” he whispers into his skin, mouth sullied with remnants of dinner. He stays there for a while, close enough to the toilet, but secure, sense of safety in being pressed against Alvin’s body. Alvin has his arms around Jude too, his fingers still tracing patterns along his skin, sometimes fiddling with a piece of his raven hair.  
  
“Do you still think I’m pretty?” He asks, finally, unsure of how much time has passed. He’s beginning to feel a little better, some of the toxins flushed from his system. Jude’s stomach lurches again and he thinks of crawling toward the toilet again, but it’s different. It’s the same feeling he had on Valentine’s Day, the same warmth he felt when Alvin kissed him just a little bit ago, and he just presses himself further into Alvin’s arms, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping that whatever he said didn’t hurt him.  
  
Alvin kisses the top of his head, “Yeah.” Then he chuckles, “Yeah, I do.”  
  
Jude doesn’t reply. It’s the last thing he remembers before drifting off to sleep, still wrapped in the reassurance that he couldn’t have messed this up that bad.  
  
*  
  
It’s different. It’s different the moment he wakes up, no residue of vomit in his mouth, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, head propped up on several pillows. His body aches—from his stomach to his back to his thighs and to his temples that pound heavily in the morning sunshine. There’s a bottle of water on the nightstand and a tiny travel sized bottle of ibuprofen with a note that reads ‘ _For Sleeping Beauty’s hangover’,_ and on the ground next to him he spots an empty trashcan lined with a plastic bag.  
  
Alvin’s curled up next to him wearing underwear and nothing more, hand tightly clutching the edge of Jude’s shirt, and he’s different, too—facing him instead of rolled on his side toward the wall, body positioned as close to the edge of the bed as he can before he threatened falling off. He’s breathing softly, still sleeping, and Jude is careful to take his medicine, trying to cause as little disturbance as possible, but he still wakes him up.  
  
“Doing better?” Alvin yawns and wraps his arms around Jude’s waist, pulling him back down into the soft comforter of the bed. It certainly beat the hard lumpy thing they gave him at his dorm room, and it’s even more comfortable than the bed he has at home.  
  
“Yeah,” Jude replies, and tenses when Alvin scoots a little closer, resting his cheek against Jude’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”  
  
Alvin chuckles, voice heavy and groggy sounding, “It happens.”  
  
Jude isn’t sure why he does it, but before he can stop himself he moves his body on top of Alvin’s and starts to kiss his neck, nipping at his skin. Alvin pushes against his chest a little and Jude pulls back and blurts, “I wanna fuck you.”  
  
“Kid, it’s early. Go back to sleep and we’ll talk after coffee,” Alvin shifts Jude back next to him and tightens his hold around Jude’s waist, snuggling into his shoulder and Jude's left wondering what changed. 

Lying against the pillows, Jude tries to close his eyes again and fall back asleep, but his mind is active, repeating the same thing over and over: _it’s different_ and yet, he can’t figure out why. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and sticking around this far!


	11. Nagging Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late! The New Year has been super hectic x-x;;
> 
> Also I wrote backwards again, oops! Anyway, I hope it's okay regardless.

“It’s ridiculous,” Lin says, standing in the kitchen, flipping through a school catalogue, “I have to buy an entirely new set of graduation robes just to walk across a fucking stage.”

“Oh please,” Jill replies, pulling her long hair into a high ponytail and flopping with her back on the sofa. She had a habit of tying her sneakers before she went running with her foot pointed in the air, lying on the couch, and Lin’s always thought it was oddly charming, if a little bit annoying. “It’s our graduation from six years of hell and a haze of wine and I’m going to enjoy it, not be salty like you.”  
  
He grunts, and turns the page, flinging some of his black hair from his vision, thinking that everything on the glossed pages is overpriced shit, and wonders why anybody needs a giant embossed frame to display their degree, but he finds himself looking at it anyway. Maybe it would look nice in his office.  
  
“So, given any thought to what you’re doing?” Jill asks, and Lin peeks over the top of the magazine. She’s standing up, zipping a jacket over her sports bra, and leans against the kitchen countertop, her long hair falling over her shoulders, “I figured you’d have your entire life planned out by now.”  
  
Sighing heavily, he drops the catalogue and leans against the counter, his face just a few inches away from hers, “I did,” he says simply.  
  
“Yeah?” She taps him lightly on the nose, and he crinkles it in reply. She laughs.  
  
“Yeah, I was going to graduate with honors and get the fuck out of this city,” he admits, and silence falls between the two of them for a few minutes. Jill doesn’t say anything; she’s known him long enough to know what times are most appropriate to reply, and he loves that about her. After a few moments, he pushes himself off the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, “Just get away from it, you know? It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, living here just reminds me of my family. It’s never felt like home.”  
  
 She shakes her head, “No, I get it. I came here to escape. Big city and all.” He nods in reply. Her parents weren’t around much, unless they were telling her they were moving—high-level military or something from what he remembered. Jill hated talking about her family almost as much as Lin. It was one of the many things they had in common.  
  
“Are you staying?” He asks, unsure of her reply. Lin could see her leaving, starting over somewhere that didn’t leave any traces of her past now that she’d accomplished everything she’d wanted, but truth be told, he didn’t really know.  
  
Looking thoughtful for a moment, she says, “Despite everything, probably.” Jill pauses before continuing, “I have an interview for a position with a university, actually. Next Wednesday.”  
  
“Ours?”  
  
“No, the _other_ University in the city,” she finishes and Lin crinkles his nose in distaste. Jill laughs a little and rolls her eyes, “It’s just an assistant position, but they have a great program, I think I’ll like it.”  
  
“Well congratulations, even if you are a traitor,” he sniffs, grabbing the magazine from where he threw it by the sink, flipping through the pages again. There’s a staged photo of a graduate with her family, parents standing proudly behind her, resting their hands on her shoulders and his own graduation looms in thick red lettering at the forefront of his brain. Four months ago, he wanted nothing more than to leave. But four months ago, there wasn’t anything tying him down.

Which is why six months ago he’d (regrettably) taken his academic advisor’s suggestion in applying for a research fellowship at a university on the West Coast. He hadn’t expected much, the nature of the fellowship probably a little too advanced for a recent graduate, as the team sounded like it was to be composed of seasoned tenured professors and veteran politicians, but he’d tried anyway. Lin was nothing if not ambitious.  
  
In fact, the only other person he bothered to tell had been Milla. Well, he hadn’t _wanted_ to tell Milla, and he never actually _told_ her anything. It turned out she’d provided Ilbert the tip in the first place (‘since I knew you wouldn’t listen to me,’ she had clarified), hearing about it when she’d borrowed data from the University where the fellowship was to be located.

For a moment, he wonders what Gaius would say to him. What sage advice he’d provide, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, dark eyebrows furrowed in concern, air of authority tracing every word he said, as if he ought to have been born to be a king. He wonders if Gaius would be mad, or even how much he’d care.  
  
“Thanks,” Jill says, and stretches, “Well, I’m going running, try not too brood too much.”  
  
Lin looks up from the catalogue, leaning against the refrigerator, “Can’t make any promises.”  
  
She mutters something under her breath and slides her headphones over her ears, slamming the front door behind her. Turning back to the page he’d previously been looking at, Lin bites his lip a little, spread of last year’s class throwing their hats, colored balloons and streamers taking up a full two pages and jumps when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Pulling it out, he sees Milla’s name in the header.

_Rogue, as usual. Is it finally time for my story?_

He almost forgot that he texted her earlier, demanding to know her immediate location, mostly to have a “few words” (as he delicately put it) with her following the birthday dinner. Throwing the catalogue on the ground, he grabs his jacket from the hook and locks the door behind him, barely remembering to grab his wallet. 

*  
  
Swinging open the door of the bar, Lin makes a direct line for Milla. She’s seated at the bar on her laptop, legs crossed, short skirt hiked a little too high above her over the knees, and the tapping of her boots is already driving Lin crazy. Ludger is talking to her about something, leaning over the counter, his tie falling over her keyboard, pointing at images on the screen.

“Julius texted—he said that’s too late. What if we left at 4:30? Oh, you have class, don’t you,” she trails off, chewing on the corner of her lip, and Lin wordlessly slides into the seat next to her, peering over her shoulder at the screen, listing an array of different flights. Not bothering to look over she says, “Good evening, Lin, can I assist you with anything?”  
  
Ludger heaves himself off the counter and walks over to the wine rack, grabbing Lin’s favorite off the shelf, and pours a glass. Lin’s thankful for his accommodating nature sometimes, and graciously accepts the drink, rolling the bottom of the stem between his fingers a little before ignoring her question and asking, “Where are you two going?”  
  
She stops for a moment and looks over curiously, tossing a bit of blonde hair over her shoulder, “Well, I wanted to go to Puerto Vallarta for Spring Break, but Ludger wants to visit family—anyway, turns out his brother has a beach house on the West Coast, so I guess I can deal,” pausing, she tilts her head and glances at Lin, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Lin says, sipping his wine, “I’m just making conversation.”  
  
“Alright, why are you making conversation?” Milla picks another flight on her laptop, Ludger agrees with the times, and she starts the check out process, fishing her wallet from her purse.  
  
“I’m graduating this year,” he says staring straight ahead at the liquor bottles, “My thesis defense is just before Spring Break.”  
  
“Congratulations,” she replies, turning around in the barstool, adjusting her skirt so it covers a smidge more of her legs, “And I graduate next year, what do you want?” Milla’s looking at him curiously, sipping on her drink through a tiny black straw, and she just stares at him. Her eyes are almost the same color as Gaius’, Lin thinks to himself.  
  
Gaius. With his perfect fucking smile and his ridiculous sense of humor and his generous nature and that stupid little chuckle he gave when he thought Lin did something cute and—Lin stops, “I’m mad at you for setting me up. You knew.”

She sighs heavily, and Ludger takes the computer from her, finishing entering her card details, his torso mostly across the counter at this point. He’s a good- well, Lin thinks Ludger’s her boyfriend, but he’d never really bothered asking about their status. Pressing his nose into other people’s relationships wasn’t exactly Lin’s forte—that would (apparently) be Milla’s specialty.

“Well?” He asks, finishing his wine, and Ludger’s quick to fill it again.  
  
“Are you really that upset? You like him, don’t you?” She questions, folding her arms across her impossibly tight shirt, and Lin looks away. She’s right. He isn’t really that upset and he doesn’t know how to confess that to her without giving her the upper hand. So instead, he just sulks into his glass.  
  
Finally, he admits it, “No.” Lin looks over from underneath his black hair, “I mean, yes, I like him. But no, I’m not upset. Just mad.”  
  
“Okay,” she throws her hands up in exasperation, “So why are you mad?”  
  
It catches him off guard. It shouldn’t because he just said that he’s mad, but it does anyway and he looks at the deep red color of the wine in his glass. Gaius prefers white. Gaius wanted to be able to share wine with Lin and spent hours in the liquor store trying and sampling different reds until he found one they both liked. Gaius goes out of his way for Lin all the time just to make him happy. Just because he liked seeing Lin smile.

“I like him.”  
  
“Right, so why are you mad?” Milla asks again, narrowing her eyes. “You really should be thanking me. You know, since you do like—“  
  
“No, no,” he cuts her off, “I like him. I like him so fucking much Milla. And he—” Lin pauses and doesn’t bother looking up, just keeps his eyes fixed on his wine. She doesn’t say anything in reply, just tucks her ombre hair behind her ear and patiently folds her hands in her lap, listening intently. “And he likes me, too. So much that he’s coming to my thesis defense in a few weeks. Don’t you get it?”  
  
At that moment, it clicks with her, and Milla’s eyes widen a little. Putting her hand over her mouth she says, “Oh Lin, no. I’m sorry, I—“ And she drops her words, an uncomfortable silence lapsing between the two of them.  
  
Lin isn’t sure what to say in response, but somehow manages to force himself to smile (even if he didn’t like her all that much), and says the only thing he can think of, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t bother finishing his wine, and tosses an unnecessarily large number of bills on the counter before grabbing his bag and departing through the front doors back into the crisp, chilly air. 

*

Lin thinks about the upcoming months quite frequently over the next few days, the first of his major life changes starting to rattle him just a little. Sometimes he wonders if this is what a midlife crisis feels like, but shakes it off—he’s too young for that, he assures himself.

But he’s still thinking about it on Monday morning as he unlocks the front door on Gaius’ penthouse, balancing heavy paper bags in his arms, kicking the door closed with his foot. “Alright,” Lin calls, stepping over Aurora, who mews helplessly and tiptoes in circles around his legs, “I think I have everything you wanted.”  
  
It’s not even eight in the morning, and Lin’s already ready to go back to bed as he tosses the keys on the counter, pulling the groceries out of the bag. He snaps off an electrolyte water from the six-pack, and makes his way upstairs, cat padding behind him every step of the way. The bedroom door is cracked, and Lin notices between the time he left and the time he returned, all the curtains had been drawn over the windows.  
  
Flicking a light switch on, he throws the bottle of water on the bed, narrowly missing Gaius, who’s lying with one arm dramatically thrown over his eyes. “As requested,” Lin says, putting a hand on his hip. Gaius stirs and cracks open an eye, pawing around for the bottle, making a disgruntled noise under his breath. Sighing, Lin walks over and hands it to him, climbing on the bed next to him, “Feeling any better?”  
  
Sitting up, Gaius grumbles, “No,” before drinking half the water and burrowing back into the cushions, wrapping an arm around Lin’s hips, snuggling into his side, still making small noises of discontent, “My stomach hurts.” He’d missed work today, complaining to Lin that dinner the previous night didn’t sit well with him, and Lin somehow gave in to his pleas for water and toast over the phone, thinking it must be serious if Gaius the workaholic took time out of his busy schedule to loaf in bed.  
  
“Oh, you’re such a baby,” Lin says in mock annoyance. He’s not actually mad in the slightest, more amused, if anything. The once unshakable figure he had of Gaius destroyed in a minute as he continues to complain into Lin’s thigh, black hair ruffled, hiding most of his face.

This pouty, whining figure in his lap was the same Arst Outway, CEO of Taurus Company, that had his own Wiki page detailing his multitude of received awards in a long list right underneath a subheading titled “environmental activism and philanthropy” that made him seem ethereal and untouchable. A page that shows pictures of him at speaking engagements in well-fitted suits, that showed off his regretfully handsome features. 

“I’m truly sorry,” he mumbles into Lin’s side, and curls his body closer, “Perhaps I should’ve mentioned I’m,” stopping for a moment, Gaius sights, “well, I’m not the best at handling new foods.”

Last night, after debating with himself for quite some time, Lin decided to tell Gaius to meet him via metro in a dodgy part of town. Well, he should rephrase that - not dodgy, really, but certainly a far cry from the valet services, wide streets lined with perfectly manicured flora, and glittering interiors that lined the places they normally frequented. The real city, the parts that were populated by locals, and not tourists snapping photo after photo on their cameras.

Gaius had been a little late. Unusual, but evidently he’d only used public transportation a small handful of times, and even with the schedule and map Lin had texted, he managed to get turned around, eventually giving up and calling a taxi. He looked out of place, with his expensive suit and diamond rings flashing over his black gloves, and Lin laughed, waiting for him under a light post like he said he would be, long black coat swirling like a cape around his knees.

“Where are we going?” Gaius had asked immediately, then looked at Lin, frowning, “Why aren’t you dressed nice? I mean—no, you look nice, just, no tie? Am I over dressed?” Lin didn’t reply, just grabbed him by his hand and took him to a restaurant nestled in a building that was more sideways than it was upright and told him not to worry.

Lin looks down at Gaius and runs his fingers through Gaius’ hair, pushing it away from his forehead, admiring how his lashes flutter every so often and says softly, “It’s okay. Do you want anything else?”  
  
Gaius shakes his head in reply and Lin adjusts so he’s lying down, holding the other man’s torso in his arms, appreciating the gentle rise and fall of his chest against his own, letting his own eyes close, enjoying the gentle closeness in the present moment. He pauses, then asks, “If you had to pick, what was your favorite part?”  
  
“Of dinner?”  
  
“Yeah, of dinner.”  
  
Gaius opens his eyes and rests his chin on Lin’s hip. It’s a little painful, his strong jaw digging into his skin, but he doesn’t mind because Gaius is sleepy and groggy and blinks in thought every so often, head tiled a little to the left, “You,” he says at last, and Lin doesn’t expect that answer.  
  
“I wasn’t on the menu,” he snorts.  
  
“No, no, you misunderstood,” Gaius starts, “I’m not talking about food. I mean, if we are, probably the dumplings, but I’m talking about the evening. Dinner in general, if you will.”  
  
“Alright, so what about me?”  
  
Gaius doesn’t look like he’s expecting that question, and looks up at Lin, crinkling his nose as he cracks a small smile, “You were so happy. You were so eager to share something you loved with me that I would eat an entire plate of roasted duck again just to see your eyes light up.”

Chewing on the corner of his lip, Lin isn’t sure how to reply, and just puts his hand over Gaius’ face, “Stop.” Gaius just chuckles into Lin’s palm and rests his head back on Lin’s hip.  
  
Neither of them say anything for awhile, Gaius drifting in and out sleep, his breathing heavy, and Lin plays with his long hair idly, trying desperately to control his thoughts.

It wasn’t supposed to be difficult. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult to pack up and leave, and Jill was already making it hard enough for him, but he knew he’d see her. She was never too far away, and they’d been friends long enough to know their relationship would stand the test of time. But Gaius, he stops and looks down at the sleeping man in his lap, Gaius is different.  
  
His phone vibrates next to him, and it’s enough to wake up Gaius, who grunts, and Lin rolls over, grabbing his phone off the nightstand to check the name. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize, so he ignores it. If it’s important, they can leave a message. He sets it back down but like clockwork, it dings again, alerting him of a new voicemail and he rolls his eyes and picks it up, bringing it to his ear.  
  
_“Hi, this message is for Lin Long Dau…”_ and he snorts, thinking it’s another spam message, but listens to the full message anyway before deleting. He frowns when the woman says something he isn’t expecting, _“…schedule an interview. If you could give us a return call at your earliest convenience at…”_ and his breath hitches in his throat.  
  
“Who is it?” Gaius grumbles, rolling over in the bed and picks up his work laptop off the bedside table. He sits up, adjusting the pillows behind his back and rests the computer precariously on his knees as he checks his email, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He couldn’t stay away from work for long.  
  
Lin looks at the phone in his hand—at the unknown number with a West Coast area code in the recently missed list and says without missing a single beat, “It’s nothing—no one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think that Spring Break trip is quite what Milla wanted... 
> 
> As usual, thanks for reading :)


	12. It’s Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO FUN FACT: My best friend told me to write a story where Gaius said: “You made your bed, now lie in it." He told me I could write anything, but it had to appear once and I'm like what am I going to write? That's so oddly specific. 
> 
> So here we are, chapter 12 and I managed to use the line finally.

The skyline glitters softly from the expansive window and it’s not as cold in the minimalistic restaurant as Jude imagined it would be, with the lack of curtains and carpeted floors to provide insulation from the March chill. It could be because Alvin’s on his left in the booth with one arm around his waist, but Jude blamed it on the weather slowly letting up from the winter frost.

In fact, Jude has a tendency to blame everything on the weather lately. The warmer weather is the reason he’s spending more time at Alvin’s instead of his dorm room, since it’s easier to leave when it isn’t below freezing outside after all. It’s the reason why he’s more likely to agree to go out for dinner and movies and get coffee on Sunday afternoons doing homework with his phone turned off. Because of the weather. Just the slightly warmer weather. 

“Like it?” Alvin asks, leaning close to Jude’s face, his breath thick with bourbon and the Merlot from earlier. Jude had been too focused on his food and the view from the high-rise restaurant, and barely noticed when the other man had finished the bottle by himself—an impressive feat, if nothing else.

Cupping Alvin’s cheek in his hand, he laughs a little and runs his fingertips through Alvin’s beard that he started keeping neatly trimmed on his jawline, kissing his cheek. He was still a little bit in disbelief that his offhand comment one morning had spurred his decision to grow one out, but Jude liked it anyway, and made a point to tell him as often as possible.

Jude pulls back and studies his face for a few moments, moving a few pieces of his brown hair away from his vision and replies, “What? Dinner?”  
  
“Dinner, my _impressive_ beard, the view, you know,” he sloppily waves a hand around, “All of this.”  
  
Jude just smiles and leans over to press their lips together, his hands tightly grasping Alvin’s face. It’s a familiar taste that he’s come to recognize it as uniquely Alvin, and he presses harder, sliding his hands down, wrapping them around his neck, using it as leverage to get closer to the other man, kneeling on one leg in the booth.  

“It’s nice,” he says, sitting back in his seat, “You know, all of it.”

Alvin chuckles and grabs the check off the corner of the table and fumbles around for his wallet in his coat pocket, trying to shove his credit card back in its holder. He misses and drops it on the table several times before Jude leans over and just does it himself.  
  
“Tip,” Alvin asks, pointing at the total on the receipt like a child, and Jude rolls his eyes and calculates it for him, forging Alvin’s signature at the bottom. It’s not nearly as delicate and looks awkward sitting on the dotted line. “Keys,” Alvin says, pointing to where they’re resting across the dinner table and Jude reaches over and picks them up, placing them in the man’s hand. Alvin adds, “Do you have a license?”  
  
“Uh,” Jude pauses, “Yeah, why?”  
  
Snorting, Alvin leans his head back against the back of the booth and looks over at Jude, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, with a wide grin across his lips and all Jude wants to do in that moment is fuck health code and blow him under the table, but he refrains—mostly because he knows he isn’t actually that brazen, “Think I can drive like this?”

“But I can’t—I can’t drive your car. It’s a manual transmission,” Jude stammers as Alvin shoves the keys in his hand, pulling him up out of the booth. He teeters on his feet and holds the back of the booth to keep upright, motioning for Jude to hand him his overcoat. Jude complies, then adds, “Let’s just take a taxi—“  
  
“No, I don’t trust them. Just drive,” Alvin says, dragging Jude out of the restaurant and into the elevators. Jude tries to protest the entire ride down to the car, but Alvin drowns out his complaints, telling him that if he can do it, Jude can do it, and he barely notices when they’re already standing at the Audi, slick black finish glittering in the underground garage.

He looks at the key fob in his hand and then to Alvin, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement and inebriation, and then back to the key fob, “Fine,” he starts, unlocking the car, “But don’t leave me if I crash the car, deal?” As soon as the words leave Jude’s lips he regrets them, and stares at Alvin with wide eyes, who merely shrugs in reply, plopping into the passenger’s seat.

“Deal,” Alvin replies as Jude gets in and starts to adjust the driver’s seat, automatic controls making it relatively easy. He looks up through his black bangs, a little surprised that Alvin had said anything in reply at all, and fights the heat spreading across his cheeks.  
  
As predicted, Jude’s terrible at driving stick, and drunk Alvin isn’t a very good teacher, usually just yelling to shift the gear and catch the clutch way too late, leaving the Audi stalled out in inopportune places, like busy city intersections. It’s only a few miles back to his building, but it feels like an eternity of nerves and fear, and Jude’s happy when all he has to do is fit it into a parking spot and turn off the engine.  
  
“Neutral?” Jude asks apprehensively, hands gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he can.  
  
Alvin’s face is a gleaming shade of white and he’s holding onto the dashboard, his brown eyes wide with fear, “First and hand brake, kid,” he says, wincing as Jude jolts the car, and Jude can see him out of the corner of his eye looking away from the situation, moving his hands to his face. Finally, he manages to park the Audi and sits in the driver’s seat, still holding on to the wheel.  
  
Neither of them make a move to get out of the vehicle, Alvin just groaning loudly and hitting his head against the headrest, and Jude tries to smile a little, “We uh, we made it?” He offers weakly, adding quickly, “I haven’t really driven since high school—and never in the city.” and Alvin looks over at him.

“Shit, should’ve just lied to me and said you didn’t have a license,” he says, rubbing his eyes, “when I’m sober, remind me to teach you how to drive this thing.” 

“Why would I lie?” Jude asks, shifting to face the other man, pulling his leg up underneath him.

“I don’t know, so we wouldn’t nearly die,” he laughs, “Besides, who cares? A little white lie never hurt anyone.”  
  
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Jude can see a moment of hesitation flash behind Alvin’s eyes, before Alvin bites on his lower lip for a second, “You’re cute,” he says, running his hand through Jude’s hair. He does that a lot, and Jude’s never really sure what it means, but accepts it anyway, thinking that it’s oddly endearing as he holds on to Alvin’s wrist, keeping his hand in place. 

“I had a nice time tonight,” Jude breathes softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. There’s a thickness in the air around them, and it isn’t something Jude’s sure he’s ever felt before. His stomach is knotted, doing backflips, and his limbs feel like they’re made of rubber, wiggling listless at the sides of his body.

Alvin pushes Jude’s bangs from his face, holding them up with his thumb and index finger, and chews on the corner of his lip again. “I did, too,” he replies, moving closer to Jude, bringing his other hand to rest on his cheek.  
  
Jude isn’t sure why he’s nervous - he’s been in much more embarrassing situations with this man - but he knows overanalyzing the situation won’t do any good when his heartbeat is pounding in his ears and his palms are cold and clammy. He swallows again, leaning over the center console and brushes his lips against Alvin’s. Jude hesitates for a moment, trying to pull away, when Alvin pushes them back together, hand wrapped in his raven locks.

 _It’s different_ his mind tells him, but he ignores it and kisses back, wrapping his hands around Alvin’s waist, kneeling to meet his height. He fights the grin on his lips and the flush across his cheeks, but has a difficult time, especially when Alvin gently runs his tongue over Jude’s. There’s no teeth, no fighting, and if it isn’t for the heart racing in his chest, the moment would nearly be perfect.

Eventually, he pulls away, not because he wants to, but because he can’t breathe, light-headed and dizzy, and looks at Alvin, chuckling quietly, “I—um, that was—“  
  
Alvin shakes his head and silences him, pressing their lips together again.

*  
  
A few days later, Jude isn’t feeling so well. Not sick, really, rather just confused and perplexed, more disorganized than he usually is on an average Tuesday afternoon. He’s sitting on a stool in the research facilities at Taurus, reading the reports Dr. Balan left for him, chewing on the tip of his pen. It isn’t making any sense to Jude, not because it’s complicated, but because he can’t seem to focus on anything at the moment.  
  
 _Well,_ he thinks, _it **is** complicated_ , Dr. Balan being both a professor at the University and a contractor with Taurus—especially when consultation was needed for Milla’s research. Despite his exterior that reminded Jude more of a mad scientist than a professor, he had an extremely sharp mind, often solving complicated procedures before Jude could barely analyze the problem. He’d been in the laboratory earlier, flitting around, talking to Jude or even himself when no one else had been paying attention, and left the documents for Jude’s review.  
  
Sighing heavily, Jude rubs his temples and wills himself to focus on the data, tapping a few numbers into the computer seated on the desk. His phone buzzes next to him and he jumps, startled, and checks the name header—Party Guy—the source of his frustration, really.

 _Causal or dressy this weekend?_  
  
The corner of his lips twitch into a small smile and he replies:

 _ **casual. being with you i’ve blown thru more sweaters, button-ups and ties than i care to.**  
  
_ His phone buzzes almost instantly and he reads the message, knowing he made a mistake when he selected the wording for the text.  
  
 _That’s not all youve blown,_ followed by a winking emoji and a heart.  
  
 _Casual it is_

 **_you’re 5._ ** ****

Alvin doesn’t reply, just sends an emoji blowing a kiss, and Jude leans his head on his hands, looking at the text message window with interest, forgetting about the work he’s supposed to be doing. Sure, Alvin’s childish, but also oddly charming, and he has a habit of doing little things for Jude that make him feel special. Like turning on the seat heater in the Audi for him before he picks him up, or leaving tiny notes in his backpack. And then there were other times when—  
  
“I don’t believe that texting qualifies as work,” someone says above him, and Jude snaps his head up, staring at the imposing figure of Arst Outway in the doorway of the research laboratories, his arms crossed over his chest, one hand holding his leather gloves.  
  
“I—um, sorry sir,” Jude stammers and clicks his phone off, tossing it on his backpack next the computer. “Did you need anything?”  
  
Arst sighs and walks over to the table, perching himself on a stool across from Jude, “Did Dr. Balan not advise you that we had a meeting?”  
  
Frowning, Jude flips to the cover of the Manila folder and looks at the sticky note written in loopy cursive, _‘Mr. Outway, mtg @ 3p’_ and Jude thinks that his handwriting is quite similar to Alvin’s, and then wonders briefly if he’d hit send on his reply, eyes darting to his phone. He looks back at Arst, his eyes set into a serious expression, and manages to squeak, “Yeah, he did.”  
  
“Well alright then, tell me the results,” Arst says, waving his hand, and Jude swallows, staring down at the numbers and then back up at the computer. Arst is an intimidating figure, even sitting on a seat that’s clearly too small for his frame, suit jacket folded on the table next to him, and Jude always has a difficult time finding his voice around the executive.

Finally he says, “Right, okay,” and starts to go through the information, pointing out several items in the report and pulling some statistics up on the monitor. Arst is a good listener and takes notes on a steno pad, asking the appropriate questions at the appropriate moments, his breadth of knowledge far exceeding Jude’s expectations. He knew that Arst was intelligent, but he finds himself impressed with just how gifted he actually is. Jude assumed that he spent the majority of his time in his office or tending to the needs of the board, not engaging in the affairs of his employees.  
  
“So if we look here—“ Jude starts, pointing at a graph on the screen with the end of his chewed pen, and pauses when his phone vibrates next to him. He glances at it briefly, and then hits the space bar on the keyboard, activating the program to shift the graph, “—we can see the effects of—“ and stops when his phone buzzes again.  
  
Arst looks at Jude with an eyebrow raised and chuckles a little, “Go ahead, check it.”  
  
“No, it’s rude, I—“ and Jude’s phone vibrates a third time. He thanks Arst and reaches over to grab it, unlocking the screen. They’re all from Alvin—just as he figured.

_Movie in or theaters?_

_I kinda want to see unfinished business…but you wanted to see insurgent or something_

_Oh it isn’t out yet gdi_

Jude laughs, surprised Alvin remembered, and starts to tap a reply when he receives another message.  
  
 _Kudos for trying right?_

**_yeah, yeah kudos for trying. what do you want?_ **

Arst clears his throat, his fingers tapping in rhythm on the metal surface of the table, “Is that—is that the man you’re seeing?” He’s moved from drumming his fingers to leaving his hands folded gracefully in front of him, diamond studded rings glittering in the fluorescent lighting, and Jude just stares at him.

“Oh uh, yeah, but we’re—we’re not really dating or anything—it’s nothing really, so,” he mumbles, looking at his screen. Alvin’s three dot bubble appears a few times, then disappears, and he chuckles a little under his breath. He’s always a little indecisive about movies.  
  
If it had been anyone else sitting in the stool across from him, they’d have ignored the comment and dropped the subject. Arst isn’t just anybody, however, and picks up on the slight nuances in Jude’s words almost instantly, “Not really?” He questions, and Jude’s expression falls.  
  
“We, um, it’s just like, you know, it’s just fun. But—“  
  
Jude stops and looks at the phone in his hands, Alvin’s messages bright on the screen.  
  
 _Uhh you decide_

_I just want to see you_

He looks up at Arst’s face, curious expression on his features, “You don’t have to tell me, I apologize that was—“

“No,” _It’s just fun,_ he thinks, but it isn’t always fun. It’s complicated and messy and everything was fine until Alvin started taking him to dinner and holding him at night, and asking to spend more and more time with him until Jude couldn’t stop himself from falling for some guy that took him home one night—for a guy that was supposed to come without the feelings and commitment and the dull ache of something more.  

 _I just want to see you,_ he repeats in his head, and he hates Alvin for saying that as he chews his lip, aware of the loud ticking from the clock behind him. Sighing, he’s unable to reel in his racing thoughts any longer and breathes, “It’s different,” just barely loud enough for Arst to hear, “It’s different because I—I don’t want _this_ anymore and I’m sick of pretending like it’s nothing. Because it isn’t nothing.”

Arst doesn’t say anything in reply immediately, just remains silent until he’s sure Jude is finished speaking and asks, “What is it?”

Shaking his head, Jude replies, “I don’t know. I mean, when we’re together it’s great, but I like him, and I never accounted for my stupid emotions complicating things.” He laughs bitterly and thinks his words sound stupid and childish.

“Not your wisest decision, certainly,” Arst agrees and crosses his legs under the table. “But relationships are very rarely simple.”  
  
Jude asks weakly, “Now what?” It took him this long to acknowledge what changed, and he’s not ready to fully address the issue, but deep down he knows that isn’t right, either, and he just stares at the photo of the week’s train schedule he uses as a wallpaper to try and keep his obligations organized.  
  
“Well, it’s different from the agreed terms, correct?”  
  
“We didn’t really, uh,” he pauses and fiddles with his fingers, “You know, talk about it. It just kind of happened.” And Arst stares back at him with the same un-amused expression he’d been wearing at Jill’s party.  
  
“Nevertheless,” he starts, sighing, “it’s different from the expectations you, and presumably, he had entering your relationship. So you owe it to him to be honest.”  
  
“He’s not really big on that touchy stuff, so I—“  
  
Shaking his head, Arst cuts him off, waving a hand in Jude’s direction, “The way I see it, you can either choose to participate and pretend it’s the same, effectively lying to both yourself and to him, or you can be honest. In the end, it’s your call.”

Jude groans loudly and collapses on the table, burying his head in his arms, “That sounds hard.” _How bad could pretending actually be?_ He thinks briefly, and then stops because he knows that he can’t do that to anybody—especially not someone he cares about, and especially not Alvin.

“You made your bed, now lie in it,” Arst laughs, raising an eyebrow, and crosses his arms over his chest once more. “Now, do we have any other data to discuss?”  
  
“No, sir,” Jude replies, swallowing and putting his hands in his lap. He’d somehow already forgotten the real reason for Arst’s visit to the research facilities, and looks down at the documents sheepishly, making sure that they actually didn’t have anything further to go over. They didn’t.  
  
“Good,” he says, standing up, putting his coat jacket back over his arms and his gloves on his hands, “Please send me a report of the information discussed, and do try to leave on time today. Payroll wasn’t too happy about ten hours of overtime last week, and I think that, for your own sanity, you might need a break.”

Arst turns to leave and Jude calls out after him, “Hey, Mr. Outway—“ The man looks over his shoulder, long black hair feathered over his eyes, “Thank you.” In reply, Arst just makes a small chuckle and exits the research facilities, door softly closing behind him.  
  
Jude reaches over and grabs his phone, finally sending Alvin a reply:  
  
 ** _at home is fine, see you friday._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Good Lin Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the really dumb sounding title makes sense.

Midterms had finally concluded and the University was a mess of excitement, with students preparing for Spring Break. Lin wished he could be amongst them, celebrating and thinking about their vacation plans, but instead he’s sitting inside his office staring at his computer screen, trying to make sure that he’s prepared for any question the dissertation committee throws at him. He’s pretty sure he’s got it, but he can’t be too careful, and reads over any relevant literature again and again just to be safe.

Presently, it’s during his normal office hours on Thursday morning, but he knows that none of his students will visit, and his defense is tomorrow, starting at 9am sharp. His advisor had mentioned that it was more of a formality if anything, and to maintain an even keel—he knew that Lin was confident and knowledgeable in his subject of study, but Lin remembered the other defenses he’d attended over the years (including Jill’s a few months prior), and thought back to the nervousness of the students standing on stage with their hands twitching around the microphone.

Scrolling through the journal article he’s absorbed in, he jumps a little when the door to his office opens, but figures it’s another graduate student, and doesn’t look up from his monitor. In fact, he immediately tunes out his surroundings again and focuses on the words printed across the screen, leaning a little closer to his laptop.  
  
“—trying to talk to you,” an exasperated voice next to him says, and Lin blinks and looks over, seeing Leia standing with her hands folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. “Are you listening now?”  
  
“Yes,” Lin snorts, “And what can I assist you with today, Miss Rolando? Midterm grades have already been posted and I said in class last Tuesday that they were final. I will not argue so you can receive extra points.”  
  
She sighs and flops down into the seat by his desk, tossing her purse on the ground at her feet, “No it’s not that. I just came by to tell you to break a leg tomorrow,” she says with a smile, giving him a thumbs up, “I’m leaving on a conference with _The Spectator_ tonight so I can’t go, but Nadia told me to tell you that she’s going and I think Jude and Milla and stuff are too but—“ 

Her words are cut-off by another knock at the office door and Lin groans, calling over his shoulder, “It’s open,” wondering why people couldn’t leave him alone today—or any day, really.  
  
A man enters carrying a rather large bouquet of orchids, petals a deep blue and purple hue, in one hand and a wrapped package in the other, and fumbles a little trying to get into the room. Leia springs up out of her seat and holds the door for him. He thanks her and sets the flowers down on Lin’s desk, pulling a scanner from his back pocket.  
  
“I have a delivery here for, er, Mr. Soon-to-be-Doctor Long Dau?” He says, tapping the screen with a stylus, and Lin rolls his eyes.

 “Me, that’s me,” he replies, and the man gestures for him to sign. Lin scribbles something that doesn’t remotely look like his signature and the man nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him. He’d hoped Leia left too, but there she is, leaning her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the edge of the desk and looking at Lin with interest. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t know if she can see it over the impossibly large bouquet. 

“So, who are they from?” she asks with a lilt to her voice, and Lin shoots her a glare, scooting the vase back so he can see her face more clearly, plucking the card from the center of the display. If he were alone, he’d probably smile as he read the note, but maintains his impassive expression, setting the card down, starting to tear the wrapping paper off the package.  
  
“Who do you think?” He says, and Leia immediately scrambles to read the note, but she just stares at it for a little, frowning underneath her brown hair.  
  
She gestures to the words helplessly, “What is this? Your secret code?”  
  
“No,” Lin snatches it from her hands, “It’s Mandarin.”  
  
“Oh,” she replies and then crinkles her nose, “Mr. Outway knows Mandarin?”  
  
“Apparently between attending an international business program in Shanghai and backpacking across the country doing philanthropy work, he learned it,” he mutters, finally tearing the paper off the outside of the package, tossing it in the trashcan under his desk. There’s a moment of surprise when Lin reads the jeweler name imprinted on the top of the stark white box and he has a hard time keeping his emotionless expression displayed on his face as he shakes the top loose.  
  
Leia’s watching with an intense expression and Lin immediately regrets opening anything in front of her but figures it’s too late, revealing a pair of gold cuff links, knotted design sparkling in the fluorescent lighting. There’s a note in this box too, _‘Tomorrow’s confidence boost’_ and nothing more. Finally, he caves and smiles, plucking one out to examine it, Leia instantly grabbing the other.  
  
“Aw, he really likes you,” she practically coos, “Look how pretty these are.”  
  
“Drop it and you’re dead,” Lin snaps, and she promptly places it back in its holder, choosing instead to inspect the bouquet, still looming overhead, orchid blossoms fanning out of the green hobnail vase.  
  
“Do you like flowers?”  
  
Lin looks up curiously. He doesn’t know if anyone besides Gaius has ever asked him that question before, “I do.”

“Are orchids your favorite?”  
  
“They are.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
He sighs heavily, “Are we done asking personal questions?” Leia doesn’t reply and Lin doesn’t know how to react to her forwardness, so he obliges her. After all, she _does_ make the best Americanos he’s ever had. “They represent luxury, opulence, but also perfection and nobility. I’ve always loved their geometric design,” he says, feeling a petal between his fingers, “We kept them in the house when I was little.”  
  
Leia’s still leaning with her head on her hands, almost wistful expression on her features, stupid smile plastered across her face, “Wow, Mr. Outway remembered all that and picked it just for you.”  
  
“I don’t believe I’ve ever shared that with him,” Lin says, thinking back to their prior conversations, assuming the same position as Leia, and she giggles.  
  
“He likes you,” she teases, and Lin scowls at her out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”  
  
Picking up her phone from its holder out of her purse she checks the time, “In ten minutes it’ll be time to berate Jude into going to lunch with me since I kinda skipped class, so yeah, I should probably jet.” Standing up, Leia stoops to grab her belongings and gives Lin another thumbs up, “Kick ass tomorrow, I’ll try to have Nadia Skype me in.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, be safe at your conference, no underage drinking,” Lin waves her off, turning back to his computer.

Leia laughs at his comment and says somewhere between a chuckle and a snort, “I'll try my best,” slamming the door behind her and Lin suppresses a snicker, trying to direct his attention back to the journal article he’d previously been reading, but it’s difficult with the rich blue hue of the flowers and glittering gold glinting in the corner of his eye.  
  
After a few more minutes, Lin accepts that he isn’t getting any work done and pulls out his phone, tapping on Gaius’ name:  
  
 ** _Everything is perfect, thank you._**  

*  
  
“Nervous?” Jill asks, standing with her hand on her hip in the doorway of Lin’s bedroom. Her long champagne blonde hair is curled in soft ringlets, still reaching her waist that’s completely exposed in cutouts on her dark blue tea length dress, and she laughs when Lin looks at her from underneath his black hair.  
  
“No, I’m fine,” he snaps, and fidgets with his tie in the mirror a little more, fingers shaking around the Windsor knot, and sighs heavily. Jill doesn’t say anything, just walks over, her skyscraper heels clicking on the wood floor and fixes it for him, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. “I’m fine,” he says again, but doesn’t make any motion to swat her away when she adjusts his suit.  
  
“The suit’s nice, what is it?” She asks, running her fingers over the soft material on his coat.  
  
“It’s, uh, it’s actually Valentino,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat, and she laughs. He purchased it a few days after the first date he’d had with Gaius because lying about a fake Valentino suit made him decide that he really needed a real one in his collection.  
  
“You wear it well,” Jill smiles and grabs his wrist, leading him out of the bedroom, “Now, if you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late and remember you have the public presentation which is an hour, followed by the private, unnecessarily long grilling from your panel, so be prepared and…” she trails off and Lin stops listening, checking his phone while she adjusts his outfit and appearance, checking a few times to make sure he had everything he needed.  
  
It’s 8:13 in the morning and Gaius offered to drive, even though Lin insisted that his apartment is within walking distance from the University. But when Gaius decides that he wants something, he doesn’t accept ‘no’ as an answer and Lin patiently waits, knowing that the man wouldn’t dare be a second late for his scheduled arrival time of 8:15.  
  
In fact, as soon as fourteen slips into fifteen, there’s a buzz at their front door and Jill answers it, Gaius standing in the entryway, nearly hidden by the large floral display in an elegant vase. He pokes his head over the top of the Narcissus, standing on his tiptoes and says, “Good morning.”  
  
Lin can’t stop himself from giving a small smile, “More flowers?” He gestures Gaius inside and Gaius places the second bouquet next to the orchids, arranging them neatly on the dining room table.  
  
“Chrysanthemums for intellectual pursuits and Narcissus to call forth dormant talents. I thought it fitting for today,” he replies, putting his hands in his pockets, black bangs falling over his rosy eyes, alight with amusement and Lin swallows, looking back at the vase.

He holds a flower in his hand and feels his stomach sinking. But it isn’t nerves for his upcoming thesis defense. It’s something else. Part of him wants to smile as wide as he’s able and tell Gaius how much the flowers mean to him and how pretty they are. Another part wants to punch him in his obnoxiously handsome face for being so thoughtful. But the greatest part of him feels empty, alone, even scared, and he looks over his shoulder at Gaius, feeling twisting and turning inside his body.

“What is it?” Gaius asks, cocking his head to the left, hair shifting from his vision, and his soft lips Lin loves so much twitch into a smile, “do you not like them?”  
  
“No, no,” Lin says quickly, and fidgets with his watch—the same watch Gaius had given him, and pulls his black hair from his eyes, “they’re perfect.”  
  
“Good, good,” Gaius mutters in reply, stuffing his hands further in his pockets, shifting his gaze away from Lin.

Jill laughs, lacing her arm through Lin’s, tugging him towards the door, grabbing Gaius’s free arm in the process heaving him along with her, “Now that you’re done flirting like schoolboys, we all need to leave unless you,” she pauses looking over at Lin, “want to be late for the most important event of your academic career.”

He mumbles something incoherent and lets himself be escorted out the front door, Jill somehow locking it behind her, even with her arms attached to two men towering over her slight frame.  
  
*  
  
The room is more crowded than Lin expected at thirty minutes to the start of his presentation. The public portion of the thesis defense is scheduled for an hour and a half and then everyone is unceremoniously shooed out of the room for the remaining three hours while he presents the rest of it in front of his panel of committee members that ultimately made the final decision on whether or not he was to graduate this semester with a Ph.D in his field of study.

Gaius is seated in the front row with Jill and Nadia flanking either side of him, the latter of the two women trying to use the spotty university wifi connection to connect to Leia via Skype. Jill’s on her phone and she looks up from the bright screen for a moment, “Al says break a leg, by the way.”  
  
Nadia pauses and breaks her concentration from her laptop, reaching across Gaius and snatching the phone away from Jill, “Stop texting trash,” she snaps and throws the offending mobile device in her bright red purse. Jill tries to reach for it, throwing most of her body across Gaius’ lap, and the man stares straight ahead, stoic expression on his features, his eyes pleading helplessly at Lin for assistance.

“Give it back you little—“ Jill argues with her, “He hasn’t been a complete asshole lately,” she finishes, finally swiping it from Nadia’s open bag on the empty seat next to her, body pressed over Gaius’ knees.  
  
“Oh, oh, I totally know why,” a voice from the computer says excitedly and Lin does his best to combat the smirk forming across and lips, knowing that Leia had now been successfully Skyped in to the presentation and Nadia sighs heavily but waves a little anyway. “Seriously, I know why,” Leia continues, cackling, and Lin doesn’t have to see the screen to picture her flower-decorated brown hair, green eyes shining with laughter.

“Hm, so do I,” Jill laughs into her hand, looking over her shoulder at the row behind them, Milla and her usual flock of followers taking up several seats.

To her right, Jude turns a bright shade of red, presumably at the mention of Alvin’s name. He’s donning a suit, his black hair meticulously styled, and holds Jill’s gaze for awhile, worried crease growing between his eyebrows by the second and after a few minutes he taps Milla with his elbow, “She won’t look away.”  
  
“You’re fine,” Milla waves her hand, and stares at her phone in her hand, scrolling quickly on the touchscreen, “I emailed Julius the itinerary, we’re all packed, do we need to do anything else?”  
  
Ludger looks at a small paper notebook in his hand and shakes his head, black streak falling over one eye. Musee sighs loudly. She’s on the opposite side of Milla, and stretches, her revealing dress barely appropriate for a night at the club, let alone a thesis presentation.  
  
“Invite me,” she whines.  
  
“You’re fine, too,” Milla huffs, going back to her phone. Musee crosses her arms over her chest and then perks a little, leaning over and whispering something in Gaius’ ear that makes him jump a little in surprise and swat her away with his hand while she giggles the entire time.  
  
“Seriously Milla, she won’t stop staring,” Jude says, tugging on part of her blonde ombre hair and points to Jill. Lin’s pretty sure Jill’s just doing it at this point to make him as uncomfortable as possible and he loves every second of Jude fidgeting in his seat, trying to sink as low as he’s able behind Gaius’ hulking figure.

“She said you were fine, phony,” Ivar laughs, kicking the back of Jude’s chair forcefully enough to cause him to rattle. Jude turns around to argue with him, forgetting all about Jill in the process, who gives a small huff and turns back around to her phone. 

Lin doesn’t care that he’s smiling, he doesn’t care that he’s grinning carelessly, watching the group of them chatter and argue amongst themselves and the sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach is somehow stronger and more painful than it was moments before, and in seconds the happiness is replaced by something else. Something a little less familiar. Something that reminds him of the finality of this presentation, the end of his career as a student and the dawn of a new beginning that started without them.

“My, you have quite the turn out,” Rowen chuckles behind his gloved hand, long white ponytail draped over his shoulder. “It’s certainly refreshing to see so many of your friends come to support you, isn’t it?”

Snapped from his thoughts, Lin stands up straight, adjusting the bottom of his coat, “Most of them are nuisances, not friends,” he says shortly, and tosses a glance over his shoulder. They’d somehow arranged a banner consisting of three parts, but slightly misarranged them, reading _Good Lin Luck_ instead. Jill notices and immediately switches the order of the signs.  
  
“Ah, your smile says otherwise,” Rowen replies, moving to sit at the head of the panel table with the rest of Lin’s dissertation team, and folds his hands in front of him, “I do believe we’re ready to begin. Whenever you’re ready Mr. Long Dau.”  
  
Immediately shifting his face into his usual scowl, Lin inhales sharply and gives one final look to his, well, he _guesses_ most of them are friends or something closely related, and begins his presentation, moving to stand behind the podium.  

*

Lin’s face is white by the time he exits the room several hours later, and Gaius is perched on a bench, reading a book. His glasses are on the end of his nose, and he looks up from the pages of his novel, “How did it go?”  
  
“I need a drink,” Lin replies flatly, and flops on the bench next to Gaius, resting his head on the man’s shoulder, “Something strong and—where did everyone else go? Did they just leave you?”  
  
“Lin, it’s been several hours, but no” Gaius assures Lin, “They uh—you know, they had class and things to do,” he mutters, and closes his book, tucking it back in his messenger bag. Lin bought it for him a few weeks ago and he’s touched that Gaius had been making an effort to incorporate it more into his personal style. He thought the design was well suited to a man of his stature.

“Uh-huh,” Lin doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t fight Gaius and keeps his cheek pressed against his shoulder, lacing their fingers together, letting his head rise and fall with Gaius’ breathing. “So Jill wouldn’t definitely be at Rouge right now planning a celebration I explicitly advised her I didn’t want?”  
  
“No, no,” Gaius says, “Nothing of that sort,” and he stands up, offering a hand to Lin, “Shall we, then? Or are we waiting for something?”  
  
Taking Gaius’ hand, he lets himself be pulled up and replies, “The committee just needs to let me know that it’s under review. Should be a couple more minutes.”  
  
Gaius nods in reply, and they wait together. Gaius asks sometimes about the art lining the walls, one of the current exhibitions from the art students, or about what kinds of questions Lin was asked during the private defense portion, but mostly he stays close. Lin likes that their shoulders are pressed together and Gaius has his arm around Lin’s waist, hugging him tightly to his body.  

Finally, the door opens and Rowen exits the room, quietly shutting the door behind him, “Mr. Long Dau, we will begin the review process. Expect to hear from us by tonight. Though,” he pauses, fingers stroking his beard, “I do not believe you have even a single cause for concern. Such a thorough presentation was a remarkable thing indeed. I feel honored to have been your advisor.”

“Right, well, it was relatively easy once I—“ Lin starts and Gaius clears his throat, “—Thank you, Ilbert,” he finishes, averting his gaze to an art piece on the wall instead of at his advisor’s face.

“You’re quite welcome,” he nods in reply, “Have you heard back regarding that fellowship position?”  
  
“Ah well, I—“ Lin isn’t sure how to reply, and he feels awkward standing between Gaius and Rowen, the latter of the two unaware that he’d accepted an meeting with the hiring managers next week, and the former ignorant to it all. “—I have an interview this Tuesday.” 

“You do?” Gaius asks, surprised, “Congratulations, I wasn’t aware. We should make plans to celebrate,” he finishes with a smile, and Lin swallows a lump in his throat, his stomach dropping further and further the longer he looked at Gaius’ face, somewhere between proud and cheerful, perfect as usual.  
  
“It’s on the other side of the country,” Lin breathes, and Gaius blinks several times, his expression falling slightly, “I’ll be gone Monday through Thursday.”

“Well that certainly puts a damper on our plans, doesn’t it?” Gaius replies, and even though he knows it’s irrational, there’s a part of him that’s guilty for leaving at all, thinking instead that maybe it would just be better to stay. But Gaius wouldn’t want that. Gaius would want him to go, and most importantly, he’d want Lin to succeed.  
  
“Yeah, it does,” Lin says, and turns back to Rowen, forcing himself to smile, even a little, “Thank you for everything.”  
  
“Anytime,” he replies, and nods again, turning back to enter the room to deliberate with the rest of the panel members. He stops and look over his shoulder, “Ah and Mr. Outway, it is always a pleasure,” Rowen finishes, shutting the door softly behind him.  
  
Lin frowns, “I didn’t know you knew—“  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gaius cuts him off, and Lin thinks that it might be the first time in the history of their relationship that he’d ever done such a thing. He swallows again, and pushes some of his ebon hair from his face, twisting his watch around his wrist again. For once, Lin doesn’t have a witty retort to the question.  
  
“I don’t know,” is all he can think of saying and he tries to look everywhere but at the other man and he can feel Gaius’ eyes driving a hole into his forehead, “It’s so far away, you know?”  
  
“Do you want this position?” Gaius asks suddenly, and Lin isn’t sure how to reply. It’s a logical choice for someone like him, certainly, but it’s away from everything he’s grown up with, everything he’s ever known, and most importantly, everything away from the things, no, people, that keep him grounded. So he gives a safe answer.  
  
“It’s a sound career move,” Lin replies.  
  
“That didn’t answer my question,” Gaius says, and there’s a hint of annoyance in his tone. If it hadn’t been directed at Lin, he’d probably think it was unsettling.  
  
“Yeah I do, but—“ Lin tries to argue, and the knot in his stomach is growing and twisting and he feels sick, nerves crashing through his entire body.  
  
“Then take the opportunity. There isn’t anything holding you back.” Gaius reaches up and runs his fingers through Lin’s hair, and his tone is soft and warm. It makes Lin feel needed, loved, even, and he can’t believe he used that word to describe Gaius even if just for a second. 

He stops his thought process for a moment. _Nothing holding me back?_ He repeats to himself, and shifts his gaze to look at Gaius, his rosy eyes full of nothing but admiration and affection and something new he doesn’t know if he’s seen before. It’s sadness. It’s sadness, and Lin unexpectedly can’t find his voice, frozen in place by his own fear and self-doubt, wondering if he’s making the right choice.

“We should see what Jill’s up to,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, and Gaius agrees, escorting him out of the building holding Lin's hand as tightly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nooo, shit's gettin' real.


	14. Nothing Else Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy February! I was a wreck writing this so it's late ; ;

Jude’s sitting on the edge of the couch, back as straight as a board, feet planted firmly on the floor. His hands are in his lap, and sometimes he fiddles with his phone, but mostly he looks straight ahead at Alvin’s entertainment center, throat dry and eyes wide, trying to work up his courage.  
  
“Hey Jude,” he hears from behind him, and he turns around, peeking over the back of the sofa, body still tense. Alvin’s leaning on the bar, his black v-neck hanging open, exposing most of his chest, necklace dangling over his collarbone, and he blows some of the stray strands of brown hair from his eyes. Sometimes Jude thought Alvin needed hairclips more than he did.  
  
“What?” Jude asks weakly and swallows the lump forming in his throat, moving to kneel on one of his legs to gain a better view of the kitchen.

“Where’s the popcorn bowl? You put it away last time we did dishes, I think,” Alvin asks, pulling the steaming bag of popcorn from the microwave, hissing under his breath when he burns his fingertips, tossing it on the counter. He looks frustrated, helpless, and indignant, regarding the popcorn with suspicion, and Jude bites back a laugh, pushing himself off the couch.

“It’s where it always is,” Jude says, opening a cabinet above the toaster, standing on his tiptoes to reach it from the highest shelf. “Right here,” he says, stretching to reach it, jumping a little to get a good enough grip on it. Pulling it out, a few dishes come tumbling out of the shelf, and others clamor over. Jude winces and peers over his shoulder.

Alvin raises an eyebrow, taking the bowl and dumping the contents of the bag into it. “You gonna put those away?” He gestures to the plastic cups and straws that were scattered on the travertine counters with his elbow, shoving a handful of popcorn in his face.  
  
“Oh, um,” and Jude tries to set them back in the top shelf of the cabinet, but he can’t quite reach and ends up partially throwing them, slamming the cabinet shut to prevent the cups from falling out again. Alvin doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head and laughs, tugging on the bottom of Jude’s shirt, and Jude follows him to the couch, flopping next to him. 

Balancing the popcorn bowl on his hip, Alvin wraps his arm around Jude’s shoulders and pulls him close, clicking a few buttons on his remote, opening the paneling on the entertainment center. He offers popcorn to Jude, but Jude doesn’t take it, his throat still just as dry as it was earlier, mind repeating what he’s going to say to Alvin over and over until it sounds stupid and mundane.  
  
 _Doesn’t it feel different?_ His mind reels and he stares past the plasma television set, movies scrolling past his eyes as fast as the thoughts in his head. Alvin squeezes him a little tighter to his chest and Jude tenses up, but relaxes, resting his cheek on Alvin’s shoulder.  
  
 _I like you_. There’s a disconnect between his voice when he gives his opinion about what movie to watch, and it doesn’t match the inner monologue whispering in the recesses of his brain that remind him _you’re not dating, what are you doing?_  
  
“—de. Jude,” Alvin says, leaning over and kissing the top of his head, “I asked you something. Are you even listening to me?”  
  
“Right, um, yes,” Jude squeaks, “That sounds fine.”  
  
“It wasn’t a yes or no question—is something wrong?” He says, exasperated, tossing the remote on the cushion next to Jude, and Jude sits up, turning his body to face Alvin. A silence hangs between them like the words that are on the tip of Jude’s tongue, soundless and mute, fully formed and yet unable to find an escape.  
  
Jude knows the moment is right, he knows that if he doesn’t do it now, he might not have another chance for the rest of the night, and his emotions will just get swept under a rug until it’s too late. Biting his tongue, he breathes, “Doesn’t it feel different?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You know, this, us.”  
  
Alvin pulls his arm off Jude’s shoulders and sits up. He hesitates for a moment and moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table before saying, “No,” and nothing else.  
  
“Well it does for me.”  
  
Jude can sense Alvin’s discomfort with the situation - his shoulders tense up and his back is straight against the seat of the sofa with his hands firmly placed in his lap. He isn’t looking at Jude, which only makes Jude more nervous. “We’re not dating,” Alvin says, and it catches Jude off guard.  
  
“I know,” Jude replies, and he pulls both of his legs to his chest, resting his head on his knees, “But that could change. I like you—a lot actually, and lately I’ve been happy just being with you.”

Looking straight ahead, Jude chuckles a little when Alvin’s bangs fall in his emotionless face, color drained completely. He hesitates a moment, then reaches a hand out to brush them away and Alvin jerks back, pushing Jude’s hand away from him.

Jude continues, sighing heavily, “Look, I know you don’t like talking about this. I know you’d rather be doing anything else, but—“  
  
“That’s just it Jude,” Alvin says quickly, and he pushes himself off the seat cushion, standing up, his arms unusually animated, “You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me, and you want to date me?”

“I—“ Jude stops, completely taken aback. _That’s not true, is it?_ He thinks, and shakes his head, continuing, “I know enough about you and we—“  
  
“We what? Because we’ve had so many deep conversations? Jude, you couldn’t even remember where I went for undergrad last week.” There’s a lilt to Alvin’s voice that makes everything he says sound condescending, and each word stings just a little more than the last.  
  
“I should’ve known that,” Jude replies, biting his lip, tucking some of his hair away from his vision to see Alvin better, and the sinking feeling in his stomach grows. It twists and turns with each emotion that washes over him as he stares at Alvin’s face, features set into a severe frown that doesn’t suit his normally carefree attitude.  
  
Alvin laughs, but it isn’t his usual laughter, and it makes the hair on the back of Jude’s neck stand up, “Yeah, and what else do you know? Do you know my favorite color? Or how many siblings I have? What about something really, really basic like how many ties I own?”  
  
“I, uh, I—no, I don’t,” Jude stammers in reply, and his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. He tries to hide in his knees, but the intensity behind Alvin’s brown eyes keeps his gaze locked with the other man’s, and as much as he wants to, he can’t look away, wrecked with nerves.  
  
Silence lapses between them after Alvin’s outburst, and Jude can’t find anything to say. Every time he thinks of something to add to the conversation, he opens his mouth and his words escape in a small puff of breath, mind paralyzed. Alvin’s right. He doesn’t know the first thing about him and he doesn’t know if he’s an ever made an effort.

Alvin’s voice is quiet when he starts speaking again. Small and almost vulnerable he asks, “Do you know that I’m graduating in May and moving back across the country? Do you know that the last thing I wanted was any kind of emotional attachment to a place I was leaving, because I knew it wouldn’t work?” His last words are close to a whisper and Jude doesn’t know how to feel because he’s feeling too much, caught at the corner of anxiety and dejection.  
  
“No, Alvin. I—I just, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I—“ Jude trips over his words, his tongue like a block of cement floating listlessly in his mouth, and for the life of him, he can’t make his lips say the words that are on his mind. _Please don’t go._  
  
“Yeah well, I am. And maybe I was gonna stay once, but not anymore,” he sighs and sits on the armrest of the couch. Jude thinks about scooting over next to him, but decides that would be unwise, “And do you know why I never told you?”  
  
“Why?” Jude doesn’t want to know the answer, but he asks anyway.  
  
“Because I never cared. I never cared about this—and you shouldn’t, either.”

There’s a million thoughts running through his brain. His mind screams, _What about the way you held me at night? What about all the dinners and dates and notes in my backpack to cheer me up? What about the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?_ But he doesn’t say anything and a thick quiet looms between them, the relative close proximity of their bodies feeling like a chasm of misunderstanding.  
  
Jude can’t think of a single thing to say, so he says the only thing he can manage: “I should leave,” and his voice sounds foreign to him—like it didn’t come out of his body.  
  
“Probably,” Alvin whispers.  
  
*  
  
Jude doesn’t cry until he’s in his dorm room, locking the deadbolt with shaky hands, body empty and eyes hollow. He presses his back against the thick wood and slides down to the floor, burying his face in his thighs, wrapping his arms around his body and lets his tears fall, angry at himself for succumbing to his emotions and falling for someone even when he promised himself he wouldn’t.

When he put on his coat and shoes at Alvin’s apartment, stunned and upset, he didn’t cry. Even when Alvin insisted he drive Jude back to his dorm and he sat in the passenger’s seat of the Audi for the last time, he didn’t cry, his composure wrecked, mind swimming in regret.

Alvin had looked at him from the driver’s seat, hair in his eyes as usual, an expression on his face that Jude couldn’t read, and spoke for the first time since they left the apartment, “We’re here.”  
  
“I know,” Jude had replied, and held his hand on the door of the car, but didn’t push it open. Alvin hadn’t told him to leave, so he thought maybe he’d stay, as childish as it sounded. There was still a part of him that made him hope it was a joke, but eventually after several minutes of silence, he left, slamming the car door behind him. It was the last thing he’d said to Alvin, and when he thought about it, he just cried harder.

An unfamiliar part of him is upset that he didn’t cry in front of Alvin, upset he didn’t make a bigger scene at the apartment or in the Audi. Maybe if he knew how much Jude liked him, he’d reconsider. But Jude knows that sort of thing isn’t him. He’s not manipulative, and the only person he can be angry at is himself and behind the privacy of his locked door, he can let everything go. There’s no one to see his body trembling with sadness, there’s no one to judge him for caring too much about someone that, evidently, was supposed to mean nothing to him, and there’s no one to see that he looks at his phone every thirty seconds just to see if ‘Party Guy’ had tried to message him.  
  
Jude isn’t sure how long he sits there in his dark dorm room, not bothering to turn a single light on, and checks his phone for any communication from Alvin. The bright screen hurts his tired eyes and he wipes furiously at his puffy cheeks, noticing a few texts from Milla sitting in his inbox along with some Snapchats.

_Kind a doctorerrr_

_Kind_

_KIND_   
  
_LIN_   
  
_LIN IS A DOCTOR_

It makes Jude smile and he taps a reply:  
  
 _ **are you ok?**  
  
_ He moves to look at the Snaps and can’t help but actually laugh when a blurry photo from Musee comes through of Lin and Gaius with their arms linked together sipping out of each other’s straws with the caption _“Dr. Long Dau.”_ There was another following it of a terrible group shot that Musee tried to take with the front facing camera, _"Wish you were here!"_ plastered over the image.

Jumping when his phone dings and vibrates in his hand, he pulls down the top bar and opens the reply from Milla.  
  
 _Perfectly fine. Autocorrect._

_What are you doing?_

Looking up, his eyes take a minute to adjust to the darkness of the living room and Jude wonders to himself _What am I doing?_ For a second he wonders why he’s wasting energy on Alvin at all, and he feels a little better, but a wave of embarrassment and self-hatred crashing through his body replaces his optimism as quickly as he found it when he remembers their conversation from earlier.  
  
Jude sits up a little, letting the back of his head hit the door, and he winces from the pain. Rubbing his head, he replies:  
  
 ** _nothing. why?_**  
  
 _Arst rented out Rogue for Lin and Jill’s PHinally Done party._

_Isn’t that funny? PHinally Done. Like PhD_

**_no it isn’t._ **

He replies, but he’s lying. It’s making him laugh a considerable amount actually. Jude rests the phone on his knees and bites his lower lip before tapping another response.  
  
 ** _alright if i stop by?_**

It might take his mind off his shitty evening, he rationalizes, sending the message off to Milla. She doesn’t reply instantly, which is odd. Normally the usual wait time between Milla’s texts is about half a millisecond and he idly checks his email while he waits patiently, wanting to make sure it’s okay before he crashes someone else’s party. Especially Lin’s party.  
  
Jude’s phone dings a few times in succession and he frowns and looks at the contact list, trying to see who else messaged him. The first is Milla:  
  
 _Weren’t you busy tonight?_  
  
 _ **we’re not—**_

He starts to type but quickly deletes it deciding not to be _that_ guy and go into detail, dragging down everyone’s mood so he lies in the meantime. It seems like the best option, and right now Jude’s doing his best to keep it together. 

**_he cancelled._ **

The second is an unidentified number:  
  
 _Just you no baggage._

**_who is this?_ **

They don’t reply, and instead Jude’s phone rings in his hand and it startles him. Clicking the answer button, he brings the phone to his ear, and pulls it away quickly, music and laughter a much too loud background noise. Somewhere in the distance he can hear Nadia cackling, and he gives a small smile to himself.  
  
“Hello?” Jude asks, his voice cracking, and he winces, clearing his throat to try and make himself sound a little more composed, even if he felt like he could snap at any given moment unprovoked.  
  
A voice comes through the other end of the receiver, words slightly slurred, but the deep timbre and brooding tone unmistakably Lin, _“It’s me, you can come on one condition.”_  
  
“Alright,” he chuckles and winces when his voice wobbles, but figures that Lin’s probably too far gone to notice. Jude tries to cover it with a cough anyway.

_“Don’t bring that with you, deal?”_

“We—he—I, um, okay,” Jude stutters, and he curses under his breath, his words choked and cracked. Lin pauses over the phone, muttering a hold on. Waiting patiently, Jude hears some shuffling and manages to stand up himself, using the doorknob for leverage, his legs deadweight underneath him. Shaking them, he waits for Lin and the background music and laughter fade into the distance, and he overhears what sounds like a door closing.  
  
Finally Lin replies, _“Are you okay?”_  
  
“I’m fine,” Jude lies and limps toward the bathroom, both legs asleep from sitting on the floor for a long period of time, and stomps his feet on the carpet to try and will them awake.  
  
 _“Because I thought you were out with—never mind,”_ Lin sighs, and Jude’s thankful he didn’t finish his previous thought as he flicks on the light in the bathroom, staring at his red tired eyes, cheeks puffed thinking he looked absolutely awful. He’s still wearing his outfit that he went over to Alvin’s in and thinks it’s nice enough. After all, he had tried a little more than usual on his appearance today.  
  
“Well I’m not,” he says shortly, and turns on the faucet, transferring Lin to speakerphone as he tries to wash some of the misery off his face, not bothering to turn on the hot tap. Maybe the freezing cold water would shake him out of his mood. It kind of worked, he thought.

 _“You know I don’t hate you, right?”_ Lin’s voice echoes off the tiled walls and startles Jude as he wipes his face on a towel.  
  
Picking the phone back up he replies, “Um, thanks? I mean, yeah thanks.” It’s an odd thing to say, but Jude knows that Lin definitely isn’t sober and figures he’ll accept it and never discuss it again with Lin.  
  
 _“Hurry up,”_ is the last thing Lin says to him before the line goes dead and Jude stuffs his phone in his back pocket, shutting off the only light he bothered turning on and snatches his wallet and keys, locking the door behind him.  
  
*

The moment Jude walks in the door, Milla throws her arms around him and spins him around to the point that he thinks he’s about to be sick. When they finally come to a halt she grabs his arm, licks the back of his hand and pours salt on it before shoving a shot of tequila and a lime into his hand.  
  
“Have you ever tried a slammer before? They’re quite refreshing,” She half asks, long hair braided over one shoulder, top resembling more-bra and less-shirt, instructing him to take the shooter in the order of salt, liquor, lime. He indulges her, and nearly chokes at the taste of the tequila, thinking that it was quite possibly one of the most revolting things he’d ever tried. Milla assures him that it's an acquired taste.  
  
“I’m eighteen,” he manages to sputter after the lime didn’t prove to be much of a chaser.  
  
“Private party,” she says, and dragging him to the bar counter for another.  
  
About four tequila slammers and a myriad of other drinks later, Jude thinks that Milla was probably right when she advised him that it was an acquired taste, but he isn’t really sure if it’s because he’s too drunk to care or because he actually likes it. He rationalizes that it’s probably the first of the two, and somehow tosses another one back, coughing a considerable amount less.  
  
He hadn’t bothered really socializing much since he’d arrived, mostly sitting on a barstool complaining to Ludger in broken sentences, who’d been sympathetic and just asked him from time to time to drink another glass of water. A few times Milla forced him to dance, whining that Ludger was busy being a good employee, and he’d been sandwiched between Milla and Musee, face a brilliant shade of red.  
  
Once, he’d been cornered by Mr. Outway, who’d asked him if had a chance to talk to Alvin, and Jude was only saved by Jill who brought around a tray of brightly colored shots, making everyone take at least two of them. Mr. Outway wasn’t doing so well either, and somewhere between trying to make conversation with Jude and the shots, had advised him in a low whisper that he’d had a lot of shochu.  
  
“Don’t tell Lin I’m drunk,” Mr. Outway whispered, laughing behind his gloved hand, and Jude stared at him with wide eyes before being dragged off by Nadia, who informed him that he was to take his shots with her. He didn’t really know why, but he didn’t fight her, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her anger.

But by now, he’s back on his seat at the bar, wondering why he took a fifth slammer, drinking all of the water Ludger provides him, and rests his head on his arms, looking at his phone. ‘Party Guy’ still hasn’t tried to contact him, and Jude would be lying if he tried to say he isn’t little disappointed.  
  
“Can I have another, whatever thing,” Jude grumbles at Ludger, who ruffles his hair and obliges, setting the salt, shot glass, and lime on the counter in front of him. Flicking to his text message screen, he clicks on Alvin’s thread and stares at it, hovering over the chat window.  
  
“You’re going to regret that, phony,” a familiar voice next to him says, and Jude raises his head to meet Ivar’s gaze, his green-gold eyes alight with amusement, soft white hair fanning over his muscular shoulders. His tank top exposes most of his arms and sides, jeans well-fitted, and Jude wonders if Ivar’s always been that good at dressing for his body type, but doesn’t say anything.  
  
“What?” He asks, “This or this?” Gesturing between the phone and the alcohol.  
  
“Both—You’re at the point where you probably shouldn’t have any more and as a rule, you shouldn’t _ever_ drunk text,” he laughs, bringing the bottle he’s holding to his lips, finishing it and asking for another. Ludger smiles and nods, uncapping another from the cooler behind him.  
  
“You drink beer?”  
  
“I don’t drink—it’s soda,” Ivar replies, raising an eyebrow in Jude’s direction, “Why do you care?”  
  
“What, no. I don’t,” Jude says, and licks the back of his hand, starting the process of downing another shot the way Milla taught him. He looked up to her in a lot of ways, but never thought the most recent addition to the list would be enjoying adult beverages. “Just, I don’t know,” he continues and clicks his phone closed, shoving it in his jeans. “You look natural holding a bottle.”  
  
“That isn’t a compliment—how wasted are you? You slobbered like an idiot over your own hand before spilling most of the tequila down your face,” Ivar grabs a napkin from the stack sitting next to the straws and leans forward on his own stool, wiping the mess off Jude’s lips and neck.  
  
Jude doesn’t really know what to do and just sits frozen, a mixture of perturbed and flustered at Ivar’s close contact, the strong smell of his cologne assaulting his senses. The last shot of tequila hits him like a tidal wave and he wobbles on his barstool. Ivar grabs Jude’s upper arms to steady him, and Jude flushes at how strong his grip is, moving his own hands to try and shake the other man off.  
  
“I’m okay,” Jude blurts, and Ivar doesn’t look like he believes him. “Really,” he lies, but Ivar doesn’t let go, just keeps firmly in place, so Jude just stares at him, unsure of what to do next. The light catches Ivar’s facial features at just the right angle, and somewhere in the back of his inebriated mind he thinks that Ivar’s actually quite handsome and wonders why he hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe it was the petty rivalry, he validates to himself.

“And if I let go, you’re not going to topple, phony? I might hate you, but I don’t want you to snap your neck either,” he says, and all Jude can do is reach his arm out and brush part of Ivar’s hair from his face, trailing his fingers down his cheek and neck.  
  
“No,” Jude breathes, and Ivar releases him from his hold. Jude very clearly lied, and he feels himself falling forward, but thinks it might not actually be from the alcohol. It might be from something else. Squeezing his eyes shut, he presses his lips to Ivar’s and cups Ivar’s cheeks in his hands, keeping their faces close together, swiping his tongue over Ivar’s lower lip.  
  
Ivar makes a muffled noise, but doesn’t protest. Jude smiles a little, and it’s the last thing he remembers before blacking out completely.

*  
  
Jude’s head is pounding when he wakes up and cracks one eye open, immediately shielding himself from the bright light streaming in from the window on his left. Jude closes his eyes again and rolls over, pressing his face into the soft pillow, trying to go back to sleep.  
  
In his hung-over haze, it registers to him that the window in his dorm room has a very thick sun-screen hanging over it and he bolts upright, surveying his surroundings. It isn’t his dorm room. He’s not home, and he looks down at himself, topless and still a little bit drunk from the night before. Feeling his legs, he gives a small sigh of relief that he’s still wearing his underwear, but realizes that doesn’t _actually_ mean anything.  
  
The furniture in the room is of high quality. There’s a thick wood dresser in one corner of the room, vanity mirror hanging above it, and the bed is soft and comfortable, intricate design on the headboard looming above him. It had it’s design flaws, almost like it’d been carved by hand, and he touches a small chip before remembering that he’s in his underwear in a room that isn’t his.  
  
Leaning over to look at the nightstand, Jude’s surprised when he sees his phone plugged in sitting next to the alarm clock. He clicks the home button and checks his messages. Nothing he regrets, thankfully, and he sinks into the pillows. There’s something familiar about the scent woven into the dark red pillowcase, but he doesn’t register how he remembers it.  
  
In fact, Jude has no idea where he is, looking at his trail of clothing from the bedroom door to the bed. He’s not as concerned as he feels like he should be, but it’s probably due to the aching in his head and body. The rational part of his mind tells him he should go check the rest of his surroundings, and finally he wills himself to stand, his legs wobbly. He doesn’t bother to put on a shirt and swings the door open, standing in the entryway in nothing but his briefs.  
  
At first, Jude doesn’t see anything. Then he hears, “Oh fuck—no, go put on some clothes,” Ivar peeking around the column in the kitchen and Jude’s face drains of all its color. He didn’t—he didn’t—  
  
“Did I sleep with you?” He asks bluntly, and Ivar looks at him, horrified, coming around the corner in his pajamas, long hair pulled out of its usual ponytail.  
  
“You wish, phony,” Ivar replies, and puts a hand on his hip, “After you violated my pure, perfect form, you threw up in the bathroom and sat in the stall crying.” Jude groans loudly and trudges to the sofa, flopping on it and throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes.  
  
“What did I say?”  
  
“Mostly nonsensical,” Ivar says and goes back to rustling in the kitchen, emerging with a glass of water and two small red tablets in his hand, setting them on the coffee table in front of Jude. “Take that,” he continues, and sits down in an armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. Jude sits up a little and complies, lying back down as soon as he finishes the water.  
  
“I just babbled?” Jude asks, and cracks one eye open to look at Ivar.  
  
“Yeah,” Ivar sighs, crossing his legs, “Anyway, I couldn’t just leave you like that, so I offered to take you home. You were too wasted to tell me where you lived. Taking you here was just easier.”  
  
“That’s unexpectedly nice of you.”  
  
“I’m not heartless—you uh, you kind of sounded like you had a bad night,” Ivar says, his voice low, and Jude sits up fully, crossing his legs underneath him to study his face a little more intensely. “Look, I—I don’t really know what happened completely, but you might be better off now.” He isn’t looking at Jude and has his hands folded in his lap, choosing instead to stare at a series of scented candles lining the coffee table.  
  
“Thanks,” Jude replies, and he feels small and awkward, not really sure what to do with himself so he just sits there, waiting for Ivar to fill the silence.  
  
Eventually Ivar says, “I want you out after breakfast, phony,” and shuffles back into the kitchen, pulling a few ingredients out of the refrigerator, clanging pots and pans together. Jude just smiles and stands up, returning to the bedroom, thinking he might as well put on clothes to eat.

Checking his phone again, he looks at his text messages and notices a few new ones sitting in his inbox. He looks at the name headers and his heart skips a beat when he sees the little blue bubble next to ‘Party Guy’. Tapping it open, he reads:  
  
 _You ok?_  
  
Part of him wants to throw the phone out the window, and another part wants to scream and then cry before typing an emotionally fueled rant at the other man. Jude does neither and instead holds the power button and shuts it off. His chest is tight and his stomach sinks to the floor, but Jude manages to put his clothes on anyway, and slams the door behind him, trying his best to forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much :> !!


	15. Saudade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that weird thing called life happened and I'm hella late. I'll be on time this week x-x;; Sorry about the delay!

“You’re still here?” Lin asks, wheeling his suitcase to a complete stop behind him. The University coffee shop is nearly empty, most students having gone home or on vacation for Spring Break, but there are still a few stragglers milling about, talking with friends, getting a head start on homework, enjoying the peaceful silence rarely experienced during the week. Apparently, Alvin is one of them.

He spins around on the heel of his boot, knee-length coat twirling around him, scarf fluttering around his neck, and Lin suppresses an eye roll, thinking his fashion sense is absolutely ridiculous, but at least it’s designer. Alvin scowls at him underneath his brown bangs, holding a paper cup of coffee in his gloved hands, tapping the bar with the other, “Yes, why?”  
  
“I figured you’d try and kidnap Mathis on an impromptu vacation to Paris or something. Remember the last time you did that?” Lin says with a bitter laugh. Last Spring Break, Lin remembered calling Jill to see if she wanted to do something that night, only to get a poorly worded text message several hours later that she was drinking wine in first class aboard a plane headed for France. She thought it was romantic. Lin was not amused.  
  
“Clearly, I did not,” Alvin says, his fingers gripping the cup just a little more tightly, and Lin sighs at him before giving his order to Nadia. She’s standing behind the register with a slightly more severe expression than usual, and when Lin hands her his card, she grabs it and drags him over the counter by force.  
  
“Ixnay on the athis-may,” she growls, swiping his card from his hands and running it through her machine.

Frowning, Lin looks back at Alvin, who’s glaring at the both of them, fingers tapping on the coffee bar more forcefully, before leaning a little closer to Nadia, “I know that, I’m just confirming my suspicions.”  
  
“I can hear you,” he calls loudly, and a student seated at a table behind her computer jumps from the noise. Sighing, he continues, “How stupid do you think I am?”  
  
Nadia crosses her arms over her chest and says flatly, “Pretty fucking stupid,” staring him down a little before she starts steaming milk for presumably whatever else Alvin ordered. Probably a skinny vanilla latte if Lin remembered correctly, trying to think back to when Alvin and Jill used to date. He would get a tall drip coffee and pretend the latte was for someone else, Lin guessed to protect his fragile male ego. _Men are weak_ , he thinks to himself. 

“Did uh,” Alvin starts, “Did Jude tell you?”  
  
“Sort of,” Nadia replies, pulling the shots and beginning to work on Lin’s Americano. Alvin just winces a little in response and runs a hand through his hair, slightly longer than Lin recalled it being in the past. “He told the whole bar though a haze of tequila, really.”  
  
“That he did,” Lin responds, leaning against the counter, moving his suitcase to stand at his left, trying not to block the line for the register. “What happened?” He asks, but it sounds more like a command, forcing Alvin to reply regardless of whether or not he wanted to address the issue.  
  
“Ah, you know, I did that thing I normally do,” Alvin says, waving a hand, uneasy smile across his features.  
  
“What, royally fuck up?” Lin asks flatly, recalling every single emotional phone call he’d received from Jill over the years that usually resulted in her coming over and downing a bottle of wine while watching _Clueless_ on Netflix.

“Bingo,” He says, pointing at Lin, and picks up the drink Nadia places on the counter.  
  
She stares at him for a little before saying, “It’s made with whole milk and regular syrup.”  
  
With wide eyes he looks at the latte and then back at Nadia, “How the hell am I supposed to drink this?” Alvin sputters, waving the paper cup in her direction, and she’s not at all affected, adding the water to Lin’s Americano and pressing a few buttons on her machine. Alvin adds, “I-I mean how is the lovely lady I’m getting this for going to—“ then he stops, and Lin and Nadia stare impassively, so he brings the drink to his lips, “—It’s mine, it’s for me. I fucking love these.”

Neither Lin nor Nadia reply, and an uncomfortable silence lapses between them with Alvin on the other end, but he doesn’t seem to be making an effort to leave. He just holds his position at the bar, drinking his latte with its grossly high calorie count. Eventually he gestures to Lin’s suitcase, “Where are you going?”  
  
“You didn’t tell me what happened. Just gave some non-committal response as usual,” Lin says, popping a straw in the lid of his Americano and taking an unnecessarily long gulp. It’s delightfully bitter, as expected.  
  
“The kid already told you—why bothering hearing it from me?” Alvin asks, trudging toward an empty table and plopping down in a seat. He makes a gesture that Lin can only assume is an invitation to sit with him and he checks the time on his phone to make sure he doesn’t need to head to the airport. Figuring he has enough time to spare before his flight, he tosses a goodbye to Nadia over his shoulder and she waves, busy helping the small line of customers that’s started to form at the register.  
  
Lin rolls his suitcase behind him and sits across (not next) to Alvin and replies, “For fucks sake, Svent, he was only partially coherent and just mentioned that you two weren’t, you know,” he trails off a little, waving a hand to make a point, “weren’t whatever-ing anymore in the last ten minutes before he went home with someone else.”

“What?”

“Yeah he left with Ivar—do you know Ivar? Drives me crazy sometimes, but nice kid overall,” Lin says thoughtfully and tugs his phone out to check his Facebook, scrolling through his newsfeed. He starts to read a news article Jill posted, but is interrupted by Alvin’s delayed laughter, deep and slow, and raises an eyebrow, looking up from his device. He sounds uncomfortable and Lin thinks it’s hilarious.  
  
“He wouldn’t do that,” Alvin says, but it’s more of an assurance, and Lin notices Alvin isn’t looking at him. He’s staring past the plastic top of his latte, tall drip coffee forgotten next to him, his brow furrowed in thought and he repeats, “No, he wouldn’t do that.”  
  
Clicking his phone closed, Lin adjusts the folds of his long, draped cape and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat, “Well, he did,” he pauses before continuing, “You don’t know him, do you?” 

“I—“ Alvin starts, and Lin can tell by the expression on his face that it caught him off guard. He doesn’t reply immediately, stuttering a few times over whatever he was trying to say, and Lin just sips his Americano and stares at him, waiting for a reply. “I—you know what, fuck off,” he eventually manages to say, and stands up, swiping the latte off the table.  
  
“Really nice,” Lin says, and meets Alvin’s gaze, his brown eyes wide and expression unreadable. Lin thinks it’s strange, he’s normally about as easy to read as an open book, but his face is clouded with an emotion Lin’s not familiar with and he doesn’t finish his thought.  
  
“Look, I fucked up, I did, but I—“ and Alvin’s hands are back in his hair, fingers running and tugging at his locks. He looks nervous, and as much as Lin wants to, he can’t tease him. There’s something oddly vulnerable about his actions. “Forget it,” he manages to finish, dropping his arm at his side, “It was nice seeing you Lin, have a safe trip.” 

“Yeah,” Lin swallows, “You uh, you too.” He watches Alvin exit the coffee shop, doors swinging behind him, and doesn’t know how to react. Eventually he decides he can’t find an explanation for Alvin’s uncharacteristic behavior and picks up his phone again, noticing that he had just enough time to leave.  
  
*

It isn’t too late in the evening late when Lin throws himself on the hotel bed, the time difference between coasts making up for the long flight, but he’s tired anyway, exhausted from sitting squished against the window, wondering who let a screaming child into first class as he stared forlornly into the bottom of his wine glass.

The extra room that came with not sitting in the main cabin was nice, but he only ever paid the extra fee for first class because it came with complementary drinks—hard and soft. Lin didn’t know if it was the lady that kept asking invasive questions about his life sitting next to him or the fact that he couldn’t get the airplane’s wifi to work properly, but he’d managed to consume a decent amount of wine, to the point where the flight attendant joked that she should leave the bottle.

Lin didn’t think it was funny.

By the time he’d managed to land he was definitely feeling the wine, and fighting the impossibly confusing airport to make it to the taxis had been much more difficult than he anticipated. But he thanked himself by the time he’d made it into the backseat of the cab and provided the address of his hotel, traffic about as bad as he’d read about.

In fact, he still isn’t really sober as he lays on the bed, thinking about his upcoming interview. The alcohol’s managed to calm his nerves a smidge, but he’s still a little nervous and pulls himself upright to raid the ludicrously expensive minibar, eventually settling on a tiny bottle of overpriced champagne, choosing to delicately forgo a glass and drink it straight from the container.  
  
When he’s about halfway through, Lin feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket and pulls it out, remembering that Gaius told him to text when he’d arrived safely, but between the wine and ending up in the international terminal, it slipped Lin’s mind. But it isn’t Gaius, and ‘Human Garbage’ stares up at him from the name header.  
  
 _Dude, isn’t that hotel I recommended legit  
  
_ Lin scowls, remembering that he’d broken down and asked Alvin for hotel advice a few weeks ago, knowing he’d grown up in this city and that his family still lived there. He was, unfortunately, right—the hotel is gorgeous and Lin taps a reply:  
  
 ** _Yeah, fucking fantastic.  
  
_** There’s a few other notifications waiting for him that he’d failed to notice when he’d napped in an inebriated stupor in a taxi (not his smartest move, he realizes) and taps the inbox. There’s two from Jill, but none from Gaius, and he frowns, checking Jill’s first.  
  
 _Are you there safe?  
  
_ _I bet you’re wasted.  
  
_ _ **Completely trashed.**  
  
_ She doesn’t reply quickly, and he wonders what she's doing, but he doesn’t think too much about it, and downs the rest of the champagne, dialing Gaius’ number, hopping back on the bed. It rings a few times and he huffs indignantly when he gets the answering machine, but he tries again, and again until Gaius finally answers.   
  
 _“Can I get inside?”_ His deep voice says over the receiver, laughing quietly, and Lin can hear Aurora meowing at the top of her little kitty lungs, picturing her in his mind’s eye clawing at Gaius’ pant leg, and he laughs, too. _“I’m assuming you made it there safely?”_ Gaius continues, and Lin hears what he can only guess is the front door closing behind him.  
  
“Yeah,” Lin breathes, lying back with his head on the soft pillows, sinking into the down comforter. He doesn’t say anything else, just listens to the other end of the receiver in relaxed silence, Gaius presumably going through his nightly ritual of throwing everything in a heap on the kitchen counter before raiding the refrigerator for dinner before eventually giving up and calling for delivery. Lin fights another laugh and adds, “There’s still leftovers from yesterday.”  
  
 _“How did you know what I was doing?”_ Gaius grumbles, and there’s some shuffling on the other end. 

“I know you,” he replies, and then continues, “You’re terrible when I’m gone—the top drawer is filled with dumplings, by the way. I was worried you’d starve so I uh, I made extra.”  
  
 _“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”_  
  
He doesn’t reply and there’s a long pause, Lin content to just listen to Gaius pressing buttons on the microwave, dishes clanking on the other end of the receiver, enjoying that silence is always something soothing when it was shared with the other man.   
  
There’s a part of him that wishes he were there. Standing in the kitchen next to Gaius, scolding him for not reheating leftovers with a cup of water, or shaping them in a ring around the plate for more even temperatures. But he’s miles and miles way and there’s a twinge of emotion he can’t place.

So he just lies in bed, thinking about Gaius. Listening to him mutter under his breath as a chair scrapes across the tiled floor and he’s spent enough time with Gaius to picture him in his mind’s eye. His coat is slung over the back of the bar chair he’s seated on, tie loose against his neck, top buttons undone with just the right amount of collarbone exposed, and Lin’s face grows just a twinge warmer.

Lin wonders if he’s right about the way he’s pictured Gaius. So he asks, “What are you doing?”  
  
 _“I’m sitting in a dining chair, why?”_

“No reason,” and he chews on the corner of his lip a little, thinking it’s inappropriate to ask the next question on the forefront of his mind. But Lin isn’t exactly sober and before he has time to talk himself out of it he blurts, “What are you wearing?”  
  
 _“Just my suit.”_ his voice is heavy, laughter rumbling like thunder, and it sends a jolt through Lin’s body. He can see Gaius again, his muscles tight under his dress shirt, thighs straining against his pant leg, and he swallows thickly, trying to control wherever his wine-soaked mind is trying to lead him.

He clears his throat and replies, “Oh,” and fidgets on the comforter, hyperaware of how many layers he’s still wearing. “Fuck, I bet you look so hot right now,” Lin manages to exhale, his words escaping barely above a whisper.  
  
 _“You do love the tailoring, don’t you?”_ Gaius chuckles, and his voice is just a little rougher, throaty and low, and Lin barely registers when his free hand is tugging the asymmetrical zipper down on his jacket. He feels uncomfortably hot—just the alcohol, is all. But then Gaius continues, _“I’m sure you’re just as handsome as always,”_ and Lin inhales sharply.  
  
“You think so?” Lin doesn’t want Gaius to stop talking. He doesn’t want Gaius to stop telling him how pretty he is in that perfect low timbre that resonated in his ears and made his heart beat wilder with each word. He shuffles to sit on his knees, and pressing the phone against his shoulder, he shrugs off his coat and undoes the buttons on his shirt as fast as he’s able, managing to say, “What’s your favorite thing about me?”  
  
 _“Oh, everything really,”_ he starts and Lin’s stomach sinks, thinking Gaius’ response was nothing more than a cheap way out of answering. But then Gaius adds, _“At the moment, however, probably how you look on top of me.”_

“Are you seriously doing this?” Lin asks and fidgets with the waistband on his harem pants. He doesn’t tell Gaius to stop—he doesn’t even _think_ of telling Gaius to stop, and instead keeps his phone squished against his ear, breathing heavy and slow.  
  
Gaius doesn’t acknowledge his question in the slightest and asks, _“Do you know how fantastic you look? I can picture it so clearly.”_  

“I—No, I—What do I look like?” Lin manages to say, biting the corner of his lip as he sits back on his calves and curses under his breath, giving up and sliding his hand underneath his underwear to grasp at his cock, half-hard and slicked with a desire that it embarrassed him to admit came from Gaius’ voice alone.  
  
 _“Mm,”_ Gaius starts, and Lin doesn’t think he sounds like he’s doing much better on the other end of the receiver. _“Like you were made to take my cock,”_ and Lin moans, Gaius’ every word traced with that same authority that never fails to bring Lin to his knees. _“Like straddling my hips is the only thing you know how to do and my name is the only thing you know how to say.”_  
  
“Fucking hell—fuck, Gaius,” he says, stumbling over his words, and pumps his length in his hands, palms sticky with his own arousal, and he thinks about Gaius underneath him. He thinks about Gaius’ strong hands grasping his hips, and the way he feels inside of him, but he thinks about more too. About the way his rosy eyes never close, but always remain locked with Lin’s own, sheer desire burning behind his irises.

 _“And you look so lovely with your soft, pretty black hair clinging to your sweaty skin and collarbone, with your eyes half lidded as you go between sitting upright and falling forward, and your hands pressed against my chest.”_ His words are more than a murmur, and Gaius exhales abruptly.

Lin thinks he’s probably touching himself, too, but Gaius is too proud to admit it. Much like Lin, in fact, who’s presently absorbed with thinking about Gaius’ hair falling over the pillows, his jagged gasps for air as his bicep muscles pull and tug underneath his tattooed skin each time he thrusts his hips upward. Lin’s mind is too hazy to say anything in reply, so he just repeats Gaius’ name over the receiver.

 _“Two-thousand miles away and you’re still insatiable,”_ he purrs, and Lin bites the corner of his lip and moves his hands faster, _“I want to hear you come, Lin. I know you can do that quite well.”_  
  
“What?” Lin croaks, his voice hoarse from his desperate gasps for air, “Come for you?”

 _“Of course,”_ he replies and his voice is deep and rough and _perfect,_ Lin thinks, and he doesn’t last much longer, spilling into his hand that’s down his underwear like a hormonal teenager, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest because there’s only one person that’s ever made him feel like he’s sixteen and desperate again; and Lin loves that about him.  
  
“You’re horrible,” he says after awhile, sinking backwards into the bed, grabbing a tissue off the nightstand.  
  
 _“Mm, you started it. A gentleman always finishes,”_ Gaius chuckles into the other end of the phone, and Lin’s too tipsy to care that he’s smiling, his usual anger for the world around him replaced with something else. A feeling he can’t quite place.  
  
“Is that so?” Lin murmurs, and he can feel his eyelids drooping. He’s tired. From the flight, from the wine, from the champagne, and from acting like a teenager, still giddy with each breath he hears Gaius take. Gaius doesn’t reply, and Lin isn’t sure how long he stays in bed, the sun starting to slip from the sky, sunset settling over the city.

Lin thinks he’s drifted in and out of sleep for a few minutes and finally he asks, “You there?” knowing the answer to his question.  
  
 _“Always,”_ Gaius responds and even though he predicted this outcome, the same feeling from earlier tugs in his chest. It drums against his heart, flutters in his stomach, and makes his legs feel more like pudding than anything else. And this time, he’s able to place it. Clearing his throat, Gaius adds, _“It’s getting late over here Lin, three hours behind you and all.”_  

“Yeah, right,” and Lin swallows the growing lump in his throat, “Sorry for keeping you.”  
  
 _“Talking with you is never a chore.”_ Lin can picture the smile stretched across Gaius’ cheeks, his fingers wrapped around a lock of his dark hair as he leans on the table, propped up on his elbows. _“Good night Lin. I’ll call you tomorrow.”_  
  
“Good night,” he breathes and then quickly says, “Wait Gai—Arst, I, um, I lo—” before trailing off. The words are on the tip of his tongue, hovering in the static of the receiver, right on the forefront of his brain, so vivid that he can visualize the three measly syllables in his mind’s eye, but the moment he opens his mouth he chokes.  
  
 _“Yes?”_  
  
“I, um, I miss you,” Lin finishes, and it takes every bit of sober strength he has left not to hate himself completely for failing to say the one thing on his mind. The one thing he knows he’s wanted to tell Gaius for weeks, but has been too scared to admit—mostly to himself. And now, right when the opportunity stood next to him, he ignored it.  
  
 _“I miss you too, Lin. Good night,”_ Gaius says, and the line goes dead, soft clicking noise coming through the other end of the receiver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.


	16. Fandango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I don't think I have any pressing notes with this? 
> 
> Poor Jude (again) such a train wreck.

Jude isn’t sure what time in the morning it is, but he doesn’t really care too much, and reaches for his phone on the nightstand table anyway, pulling up his contact list, finding Milla’s name at the top of his favorites and dials, pressing the receiver into his ear. He burrows down into the sheets a little bit and wraps himself with the comforter a little bit tighter.  
  
Saying that he felt absolutely miserable was a bit of an understatement. He felt somewhere between a train wreck of catastrophic proportions and a fly, squished underneath a rolled up newspaper. His head ached, his nose dripped, his eyes watered, and above all else, his heart hurt—like it had been the one swatted with a rolled up newspaper.  
  
He frowns when she doesn’t pick up and dials again, checking the time. It’s only seven in the morning and she’s almost always up by five—six at the latest. Milla said it was because breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but really, she said that about every meal.

Trying a third time, she finally picks up, her voice low and whispered, still heavy with sleep, _“Jude!”_ she hisses into the other end of the receiver, _“Do you have any idea what time it is?”_ There’s some shifting and clamoring on her end and he hears a door shut behind her.  
  
“About seven,” he replies, rolling over to look at his alarm clock. “Yeah, about seven.” She sighs loudly, grumbling that she’s three hours behind him at the moment, and he apologizes profusely but she stops him and tells him to continue—she’s awake now, anyway. Jude burrows further down in to the blankets and mumbles, “I don’t feel well.”  
  
_“You called me at 4AM to tell me you’re sick? Take some cold medicine, drink some water and go back to bad,”_ Milla groans, _“Honestly, aren’t both of your parents doctors?”_  
  
Jude shakes his head, but remembers she can’t see him, “Yeah but it’s not just that,” he whispers and swallows a lump in his throat. He wants to cry again, but doesn’t think it would be wise to do on the phone. It would just cause unnecessary worry and that’s the last thing he needed right now. “It just—it still hurts.”

Milla’s silent on the other end for a while, and Jude checks the screen to make sure she hadn’t hung up. Eventually, she clears her throat and says, “ _It’s going to hurt. Probably longer than you anticipated. You developed unreciprocated, but understandable, feelings for someone you thought returned them, but yet again, human emotions are unnecessarily complicated.”_

“I—I, yeah that’s basically what happened,” he whines and asks, “Now what do I do?”

 _“Let it hurt. Cry, scream, do what you must until it’s gone. Only then can you start the process of moving on,”_ she says and it sounds so simple when she tells him what to do, but the reality is never as easy as it seems. _“And don’t make too many rash decisions. They’ll only lead to more heartache.”_

He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he blurts, “I didn’t sleep with Ivar,” and immediately regrets it. But Jude felt like she should know he had enough sense (or rather, Ivar had enough decency) to avoid that outcome. 

Laughing, Milla says, _“I know. He’s a good person and you’re not his type.”_

“I’m not?”  
  
_“No, no. Anyway, if you’re feeling better, I’m going to try and get some more sleep. This vacation has been a little more, well, action packed, than I expected. Try and do something fun. Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you need to stay locked indoors.”_  
  
“I’m sick,” he sniffs, and it isn’t a lie. His throat is on fire and he’s gone through several boxes of tissues in a feeble attempt to keep his excessive mucus production from dripping down his face. Jude figured that it was just a natural reaction to all the excess stress over the last few days and brushed it off, but it had been getting progressively worse. He didn’t much care for taking medicine.

 _“Fine, then I’ll just coordinate with Leia to send reinforcements,”_ Milla huffs, and she starts shuffling on the other line, _“Goodnight Jude.”_  
  
“W—What does that mean?” He asks and sits up, but his head pounds and throbs and he lies back down, sinking into the pillow. Milla doesn’t say anything in response and he hears the familiar click over the receiver and frowns, tossing the phone on the mattress next to him. 

*  
  
It isn’t long before Jude figures out what “reinforcements” entail when a loud banging on his front door wakes him from the half-slumber he had been falling in and out of all morning. Stretching, he doesn’t bother throwing on a shirt over his pajama pants and shuffles out of the bedroom and across his tiny living area to the door, unhooking the deadbolt.  
  
Whoever is on the other side is ridiculously impatient and knocks again, even louder than before, and he swings open the door, irritated and not amused at the clatter this early in the morning. _Well, It isn’t really that early any more_ , he thinks, eyes darting to the 11:54 AM on the DVD player.

The instant the door is wide enough, a mess of blue and green ombre hair comes floating through, Musee pushing her way through to throw herself on top of Jude, assaults him and he topples backwards, grabbing her around her waist as they come crashing to the floor.

“She isn’t sober,” a rougher voice says, and Jude pushes some of Musee’s hair from his eyes to see Nadia standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding a large grocery bag.  
  
“Already?” Jude asks, and Musee pulls herself up, placing one arm on either side of Jude’s face and stares down at him, green-gold eyes mischievous. Her breath is thick with champagne. It isn’t really any different from normal, really.  
  
“I had a brunch meeting this morning,” she giggles, leaning down to kiss Jude’s cheek. He tries to wiggle out from her insanely tight grasp but gives up, accepting defeat. Nadia steps over them and slams the door behind her, setting the groceries down in his shoebox of a kitchen.  
  
“I brought orange juice, soup, and crackers,” Nadia calls and opens Jude’s barren refrigerator, throwing them on the bottom shelf. Jude manages a “thanks” in between Musee’s overflowing hair and Nadia eventually saves him by pulling the other woman up. “Put a shirt on and get up,” she commands.  
  
“Oh, I think it’s fine,” Musee laughs and drops on the couch, propping her feet up and starts texting on her phone. Jude sighs and doesn’t make an effort to move, just lays there staring at his ceiling, thinking that the dust collecting on his ceiling fan is absolutely revolting. Grumbling, Nadia stomps off in the direction of his room.

Musee and Nadia weren’t exactly who Jude immediately thought of when Milla said ‘reinforcements,’ but a small part of him appreciated it regardless, even if Musee is taking selfies and Nadia’s complaining about the state of Jude’s bedroom, floor littered with the used tissues he’d been too sick to dispose of. Finally, she emerges and tosses a shirt at his face, ordering him to put it on.  
  
Jude plucks it off his face and frowns when he looks at the unfamiliar Greek lettering in white on a cardinal red shirt. He stares at the university name for a few minutes, his tired mind registering that it’s where Alvin went for undergrad, and Jude solemnly acknowledges that it’s also _his_ shirt. For a second he thinks about balling it up and chucking it out the window, but clears his throat instead and sniffs back a sneeze, “This isn’t mine.”

“Oh shit,” Nadia responds and leans down and grabs it away from him. None of them say anything and Musee sits up, drawing her knees to her chest. After a couple of seconds Nadia asks, “Wanna burn it? I’ve got a lighter in my purse and Wino’s breath could probably work as lighter fluid.”  
  
“Kind of,” Jude says and doesn’t bother getting up, keeping his position firmly on the ground. The thought isn’t as unappealing as he thought it would be and thinks about burning the rest of Alvin’s things that he’d somehow held on to—like the copy of _The Godfather_ he’d borrowed on Blu-ray or _Fight Club_ sitting on his bedside table. “He left half a bottle of Macallan in the kitchen—I think that would work better.”  
  
Musee twirls some of her hair around her brightly painted fingernail, glittering with a deep navy color and adds, “Oh, but why stop there? We should go over and light his car on fire too. I haven’t committed a crime in _ages._ ” 

“Ages?” Nadia asks, giving her an incredulous look and Musee just giggles and curls back up on the couch. Jude makes a mental note to never, ever cross her and finally decides to roll over on his stomach and push himself up on his forearms and clamor to his feet. His head is aching and he grumbles, grabbing his robe from its hook in the bathroom and throws it on instead, settling into a dining chair.  
  
He doesn’t say anything for awhile and Nadia brings him orange juice and orders him to drink, sitting next to him and he just nods in reply. Just when he’s about to bring it up to his lips, Jude feels something vibrate in his robe’s pocket and he crinkles his nose, remembering he’d left in there earlier. Fishing it out of his pocket, he checks the name header and suddenly lighting Alvin’s car on fire isn’t sounding like a bad idea when ‘Party Guy’ flashes in the name header.  
  
_I miss you  
  
_ “Are you serious?” Jude asks and throws the phone on the table, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Nadia cocks and eyebrow and he gestures to the phone and looks at it, making a wheezing noise behind her hand.  
  
“Wow, he’s dumber than I thought.”  
  
“Oh, what happened?” Musee asks and springs off the sofa, rushing over behind Nadia to look at the phone. Reading the message she let out a loud cackle and snatches it out of Nadia’s hands, moving to crouch between the two of them and Jude leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “I’ve got this.”  
  
**_Get used to it._**  
  
“There,” Musee laughs and Jude points to the screen with his index finger.  
  
“I only type in lowercase.”  
  
“That’s stupid, the phone autocorrects automatically,” Nadia huffs at him and Musee fixes the typesetting on the phone.  
  
**_get used to it._**  
  
“Perfect,” Jude laughs through his coughing fit, sniffing back the stuffiness in his nose and he reaching for a tissue in the box opened on the table, and it still hurts but there’s a part of him that feels a little bit better. At least he wasn’t wallowing in his self-misery in his dark bedroom, sun-screen pulled tightly over the window.

“Here,” Musee says, pulling Jude up from his seat and depositing him on the sofa, wrapping a blanket tightly around his body, “I’ll be on phone duty. Miss Travis is going to collect all his things in a bag—out of sight, out of mind, you know—and then we’re going to watch whatever you want.”

She throws him the remote controls and he opens up the Netflix application on his console, the red screen flashing across his tiny flat screen television set scrolling through the movies. He thinks briefly about watching some ridiculous teen romance but hovers over a bright yellow movie icon instead.  
  
“Too violent?” Jude asks and looks up, Musee and Nadia are both standing behind the couch with their arms crossed. Jude’s phone dangles between Musee’s fingers and they give a nod of approval. Clicking play, he sinks down in the cushions and smiles, calling over his shoulder to Musee, “Text Milla and Leia thank you.”  
  
“Anytime, darling,” she replies in a sing-song voice.  
  
*  
  
Jude isn’t sure what time it is when he wakes up again, body going between shivering and sweating, head pounding and throat aching. His phone is sitting on the coffee table and he reaches over to check it, noticing that it’s nearly seven in the evening and there’s a note next to it, Musee’s cursive and Nadia’s neat small letters across the page.  
  
_Don’t look in the bag labeled “to burn” and there’s food sitting in the fridge. Hydrate and don’t look at your phone. We locked the door behind us._

Twitching his lips into a small grin, he sets the paper back on the coffee table and stands up to shut off the television and video game console, but he’s sicker than he realized and sways on his feet, plopping back down into the sofa, vision hazy. Jude didn’t care for medicine, but realizes now that he’s starting to regret his decision.  
  
He didn’t remember being this sick earlier and thought for sure it was just a mild cold, but the aches in his muscles and dry mouth and throat indicate otherwise, and Jude remains in his seated position on the couch, wanting to get up and drink some water, but not really able to move. Throwing the blanket off, Jude thinks he’s hot, but about two seconds later he’s cold again and burrows back down into the couch.  
  
Saying that he’s miserable is probably the understatement of his eighteen short years of life, and he curls further in the blanket, drifting in and out of sleep for a bit, but instead of completely crashing, he’s woken by a second occurrence of loud banging on his front door and opens his eyes, frowning. Whoever it is is relentless and knocks harder and faster until Jude calls that he’s coming, but his words come out as a little more than a croak.  
  
Wrapping his robe tightly around his body, he unlocks the door and opens it to reveal Alvin, standing with a half-smile on his stupidly handsome face, brown hair fluttering gently in the night wind. He doesn’t say anything, just waves and tilts his head to the side, bangs falling in his eyes.  
  
“What do you want?” Jude asks flatly, gripping the edge of his door tightly, trying to close it on Alvin. He could just talk to him through the wood—that seemed reasonable enough. But Alvin’s faster than he realizes, and has his foot lodged in the frame and Jude grunts, thinking maybe he’ll just crush it and deal with the consequences later.  
  
“Came to see how you were doing,” he replies, and kicks the door open with his leg, “So you gonna invite me in or what?” Alvin flashes another smile and Jude thinks momentarily about punching it off him, but his anger ebbs like crashing tidal waves and in a moment of weakness, he gestures him inside.  
  
“Why do you care?” Jude responds, slamming his front door and spinning around to look at Alvin, his head pounding and aching and there’s nothing more he wants than to lie down, go to sleep and forget everything. He couldn’t let it hurt if there wasn’t any time for him to heal.  
  
“Balan told me you called out all week at work—sick or something,” Alvin shoots over his shoulder and makes a beeline for Jude’s refrigerator, opening the door and grimacing at the barren shelves that lacked even the bare necessities, “You been eating okay?”  
  
“How do you know Dr. Balan?” Jude asks, and shuffles to the kitchen, leaning against the entryway frame. There’s a part of him that wants to scream, but curiosity and the aching loneliness in his chest wins and he stands there stupidly, sniffing back the mucus dripping from his nose, waiting for a reply.  
  
“Remember that cousin that convinced me to move out here? It’s Balan,” he says nonchalantly, pulling out the orange juice Nadia had left and pours a glass, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

The color drains from Jude’s face as he thinks about all the times he’d mentioned Alvin in passing to his professor, and chews on the corner of his lip, embarrassed that he’d involved Alvin’s family member into his own personal life. He thinks about Alvin’s family for a little, trying to recollect if he said anything potentially damaging and somewhere in his hazy mind it dawns on him, “You don’t have any siblings.”  
  
“No,” Alvin says shortly, taking a long sip from the glass dangling in his right hand. “Congrats, you got one right.”  
  
“I—what?” He asks before recalling the events of last Friday and thinks about what Alvin asked him in anger when they’d argued and he stares at the other man, scarf dangling underneath his colored button-up, jacket over his shirt. Any resentment he had for Alvin is gone and he opens his mouth to answer the remaining questions, “Magenta, and zero—you only own scarves.”  
  
“Close enough,” Alvin says with a crooked smile, “fandango to be exact.”  
  
“That isn’t a real color,” Jude whispers, and his head is swimming. He’s exhausted—physically and emotionally—and he doesn’t have the time to deal with Alvin or whatever shit he’s planning on telling Jude today, and turns around to sit at a dining chair. Shivering, Jude snatches the blanket from earlier and wraps it around his shoulders, pulling part of it up over his head.  
  
Alvin’s typing on his phone and he plops next to Jude showing him the screen, “See? Is too.”

Jude’s back to irritated, and wants nothing more than for Alvin to leave, but he’s too drained to actually do anything and manages to grunt, “Get out,” underneath his breath. He says it rougher than he anticipated, but his tolerance for Alvin’s bullshit is at an all-time low and he looks up through his lashes. Alvin’s face (he thinks) looks genuinely surprised.  
  
In almost an instant, it’s replaced with frustration and Alvin furrows his brow, “Is that what you want me to do?”  
  
“You told me not to fucking care—yes, that’s what I want,” Jude yells and stands up, his blanket slipping from his shoulders, and he only vaguely registers how unbelievably cold he is, but he can’t show weakness. Not now. Not when he’s so close to getting enough strength to say what’s on his mind. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t feel the same way and he stumbles, light-headed from standing up too fast with a fever.  
  
Alvin jumps up and steadies him with his arms, preventing Jude from crashing into the wooden table, and Jude doesn’t fight him. He could if he wanted, but his grip is strong and his embrace is warm, familiar scent of amber and spice lulling him into a sense of security, so he slumps against him and wraps his own arms around Alvin’s torso.  
  
Resting his chin on Jude’s head, he runs his fingers up and down his spine and holds him close, “How sick are you?”  
  
_Love sick_ , Jude thinks but he doesn’t say anything. The pounding in his temple isn’t anything compared to the pounding in his chest, and he buries his face further into Alvin’s chest, his scarf tickling his nose. A few days ago he swore he’d never cry in front of Alvin, but standing with a fever in his pajamas and messy hair in his dorm room is an all-time low for him and he breaks, tears wet against his cheeks, staining Alvin’s shirt.  
  
“It’s okay,” Alvin says reassuringly, and squeezes him tighter, tracing patterns along Jude’s back, fiddling with a piece of his raven hair. “What medicine have you taken already?”  
  
“I haven’t,” Jude sniffs, and pulls back to look at Alvin’s face. He’d shaved his beard and Jude missed it, but not as much as he missed the intimacy of being close with him. Just when he was about to continue, Jude’s stomach growls loudly and he fights a laugh, “I haven’t eaten anything either.”  
  
“You’re a mess,” Alvin breathes and leans down to kiss Jude’s cheek. Jude doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Alvin bends over to pick him up and carries Jude into the bedroom, flicking on a light switch with his elbow. Setting Jude on the bed, he tucks him in and says, “I’m going to run to the store real quick and get cold and flu pills and something to eat. You try and get some rest while I’m gone, deal?”  
  
“Deal,” Jude says weakly, and Alvin grabs Jude’s lanyard, keys dangling on the end from the hook on the opposite wall and mumbles something under his breath, leaving and returning with a bottle of water, placing it on the bedside table.  
  
“Try and drink some water, too,” Alvin sighs, ruffling Jude’s hair and he grabs the other man’s hand, holding it on his head.  
  
“Do you still think I’m pretty?”

Flashing his signature smile, he nods and departs, closing the door softly behind him.

*

Somehow, Jude managed to choke down the water he’d been given, even if his throat was literally on fire, and fell asleep pretty soundly, barely registering the sound of the front door opening and closing. Cracking an eye open he notices that it’s a little past eight and sits up in bed, not bothering to move.

There’s shuffling in the kitchen and Jude hears Alvin cursing under his breath. After a few minutes, his bedroom door swings wide and Alvin flicks the switch, light flooding the room. He’d discarded his coat, scarf, and button up, standing only in his black tank top, black tattoo visible on his upper left shoulder.  
  
“Need me to airlift you to the couch?” He asks, laughing, and Jude shakes his head, pulling himself out of bed and shuffles toward the door. Alvin slings his arm around his shoulders and steers him to the kitchen and Jude’s eyes light up recognizing the logo on the bag.  
  
Peeking in the bag Jude pulls out the containers and asks, “Why’d you go here?”  
  
“Oh, you know,” Alvin replies, running his fingers through his hair, “The spice from the mabo curry will help and tofu miso soup isn’t a bad idea when you have a cold.” He leans against the counter and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and Jude wastes no time opening the Styrofoam container, shoveling large quantities in his cheeks like a chipmunk.  
  
After a few bites, he swallows, “Thanks.”  
  
“Don’t mention it,” he says, and stands up pull some pills from a medicine box sitting in a plastic bag, “Take these—get the fever down. There’s jasmine tea in the big container.”  
  
Jude complies and suggests they move to the coffee table, and Alvin helps him move the contents of his dinner, grabbing the blanket Jude dropped earlier off the ground. Jude settles into the cushions and Alvin fixes the blanket around his shoulders, hopping the back of the sofa in an unnecessarily flashy display of his strength, dropping next to Jude. Jude doesn’t comment on it, just leans into his chest and continues to eat neither delicately or slowly.

Alvin doesn’t say anything and keeps his arms around Jude’s body, holding them together. At most he’ll lean over and move a strand of Jude’s black hair away from his golden eyes.

When the hunger pains in his stomach subside Jude asks, “Want to watch a movie or something?” He gestures to the television, Netflix still open to his previous selection, “I watched volume one, I could go for two unless—“  
  
“Can I ask you something?” He interrupts, and Jude frowns, setting the Styrofoam container on the table and shifts on his legs to look Alvin in his brown eyes, “Did you sleep with Ivar?”  
  
It catches Jude off guard wondering how he found out about it at all and hesitates for a second before immediately shaking his head ‘no’ and Alvin breaths a sigh of what Jude assumes is relief. He doesn’t really know, but notices that his grip around Jude’s torso relaxes and he sinks back into the cushions with more ease.  
  
“Why does it matter?” Jude asks, picking up his chopsticks, popping a piece of pork in his mouth, “We’re not dating, right?” It hurts him to say it out loud, but he’s just reiterating what he’d been told previously. At some point or another, he had to come to terms with the facts and stop pretending that it was something more. He could either take it at face value or not at all—those were his options, and Jude knew it.  
  
“I—yeah, but wouldn’t you be mad if I slept with someone else?”  
  
“Yeah, but I—I like you,” he whispers and looks down, trying to avoid eye contact.  
  
“I know but—,” Alvin says just barely, his words escaping his lips almost as an afterthought and he doesn’t seem completely composed either, looking down at his hands in contemplation, sometimes twisting his watch over his wrist. “Forget it. Let’s just watch the movie, okay?” He looks up and the corners of his mouth twitch upward and Jude’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Jude wants to tell him to finish his thought, but pushing that much on him is just going to scare him away, and as angry as he was earlier, Jude doesn’t want him to leave.  
  
_It’s better this way,_ Jude’s mind tells him, and lying to himself that curling up in his arms on the couch is a better option than crying alone is the only thing keeping him together at this point. In the corner of the room he spots the bag labeled “to burn” and swallows the lump in his throat. He’d been doing so well earlier, but emotions were rarely black and white and right now they were somewhere else—not even grey.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Jude replies and pulls the blanket over both their bodies, hitting play on his remote. Alvin curls tightly into his body and he fights the smile on his lips and the twinge in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh, I'm more or less on time?? Hahaha, thanks for putting up with my erratic updates! I'm moving next weekend so it might be a tad wonky on time, but we'll see.


	17. All of This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the insane delay! I moved last weekend so I was crazy busy!
> 
> Here is seventeen as promised!

Flicking his black hair from his vision, Lin looks down at Gaius and thinks that this is all he’d really wanted the last few days he’d been out of state—spending time with Gaius with the curtains in the bedroom open to the sparkling city scape, twinkling lights of the skyscrapers a beacon of familiarity and security as they enjoyed it together.

“This is nice,” Lin breathes and leans forward, pressing his hands on Gaius’ chest in an attempt to gain more leverage in his current position, thighs gripping Gaius’ hips tightly. “I missed—“ his breath hitches, ” —you,” he manages to finish, chest heaving as he gasps each word like it was his last. 

“Mm, me too,” Gaius replies, his hands firmly on Lin’s hips, tight enough to bruise, and pulls him violently down, never relenting for even a second. Lin knows that Gaius is very, very aware of his limits (or lack thereof) and tosses his head back, enjoying the way Gaius feels inside of him, trusting and surrendering himself fully, indulging in both the total pleasure and traces of pain.

Lin doesn’t stop riding Gaius, hyperaware of his surroundings, and holds on to Gaius’ forearms tightly. For a few minutes he focuses on the ceiling and rationalizes that it’s not the least bit wise with such a beautiful man underneath him, and turns back to Gaius. He doesn’t have his eyes closed, rosy hue full of lust and passion and an emotion that’s both oddly alien and very familiar to him, lurking behind his irises. It’s almost chilling, but he doesn’t look away, his own body feeling heavy and light at the same time.

Pushing himself harder against Gaius’ cock, Lin keeps his focus, and in the back of his mind he registers what emotion it is. It’s the same emotion he felt in that dark hotel room, anxious and alone and _wanted,_ and he wants to cry despite the ecstasy surging through his body. Despite the pain in his thighs and the gentle touch of Gaius’ fingers on the small of his back, he wants to cry. He wants every fiber of his being to yell, scream, shout, _I love you_ but he refrains, pulling their slick bodies apart, riding and grinding against his cock, shoving his thoughts to a sense of numbness.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Gaius says, his lips curving into a smile, and Lin doesn’t know how to reply so he leans down and kisses him, cupping his cheeks in his hands. He kisses him hard and forceful and his tongue presses against Gaius’, mouthing the words he wants so desperately to admit.   
  
Gaius doesn’t hesitate, not even for a moment, and digs his nails into Lin’s skin, bucking his hips upward as hard he’s able to, and Lin loves it. He loves how Gaius knows exactly what he wants—how he’s always able to predict his desires and he moans, rendered helpless in Gaius’ grasp. His hands are strong and Lin can’t help but relax, enjoying every minute of their passion.  
  
He knows that he isn’t going to be able to last much longer with his forehead leaning against Gaius’ collarbone, fingers finding their way into Gaius’ hair. Between the relentless way he’s getting fucked and the friction between their bodies, Lin moves to bite down on Gaius’ shoulder, knowing full well that it didn’t matter how hard he sank his teeth into Gaius, he wouldn’t hurt him. Gaius isn’t fragile and he loved that neither of them ever held back.   
  
“Shit, I’m—“ Lin says somewhere between pressing his body closer to Gaius and sucking on his neck, and the only response he receives is Gaius pressing his fingers harder into Lin’s flesh. Lin’s name escapes his lips, breathy and quiet, just barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to make him come, lips brushing against Gaius’ throat.   
  
Gaius doesn’t last much longer and gives one final thrust, coming deep inside of Lin and Lin faintly acknowledges how much he had wanted it. How much he wanted perfect fucking Gaius to succumb to carnal instincts and forget the condom he had always been so careful to use. How much he wanted to feel all of him and how much he wanted to remind himself that this is where he belongs—right here in Gaius’s arms, thighs burning from stretching too wide too long, sweat-soaked and disgusting.

Lin makes no effort to move, and Gaius doesn’t complain, just traces his fingertips over Lin’s back and kisses the top of his head gently, murmuring into his ear how much he had missed him. How much he _needed_ him and Lin replies with the same, his heart full of emotion and yet empty at the same time.   
  
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Gaius whispers into the darkness, and runs his strong hands through Lin’s hair, black locks slipping through his fingers.   
  
Lin buries his nose further into Gaius’ neck and says, “Yeah—yeah you too,” and swallows thickly, unsure of himself and his emotions, worried Gaius can read every trace of apprehension in his voice. But if he can, he doesn’t say anything and continues holding him as though they may never see each other again.

After a few moments Gaius asks, “What are you doing next week?”  
  
Lin pauses and lifts his head a little, “Teaching my last few classes, but um, only Tuesday and Thursday, why?”  
  
“Would you mind doing a favor for me?” Gaius replies, and Lin pulls himself up on his forearms to stare at Gaius’ face. His expression is serious and Lin doesn’t even consider for a moment saying ‘no,’ so he agrees and Gaius leans up to capture his lips, mumbling a thanks into his mouth.   
  
In his present state, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Gaius, but curiosity gets the better of him and he inquires, “What is it, anyway?”  
  
“Oh nothing, really,” Gaius says pushing some of his hair from his vision, grinning widely, “I’d just love to show you around my company is all.”  
  
*

“And this is one of the research facilities,” Musee says, gesturing to the room, visible through the glass paneling on the door and side of the wall. Lin peers in and frowns, spotting a very familiar mess of raven hair leaning over equally memorable blonde ombre hair seated at a computer station. 

Lin had agreed to tour Taurus’ campus on Gaius’ request, who told him a few nights ago that he’d wanted to share his professional life with him as well. It was oddly sweet, he thought, and he’d been nervous this morning, picking his outfit very, very carefully before Gaius arrived, perfect as always in his shiny Aston Martin. Gaius had said that although he personally elected to wear suits, the dress code at the office was casual for all employees. Lin didn’t want to make the wrong impression, however, and chose a toned-down suit instead of opting for what he considered casual wear. 

Looking down, Lin fusses with the watch Gaius had given him and avoids peering into the window, trying to avoid eye contact with either Milla or Jude. But Musee didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and just stood firmly in front of the entrance. She’d been in charge of his tour all morning, dressed perhaps more like she belonged in _Busy Secretaries 5_ than a corporate office, but Musee had been thorough enough. Finally, after a few more seconds, Lin asks, “Is this the end or what? Because I’m sure there’s a whole side to this place I haven’t seen yet.”

“I was wondering if you were going to ask about that,” she giggles behind her hand and tugs on Lin’s wrist, throwing open the door to the research laboratory, a few people barely registering her presence. Musee greets some of them, most of the employees giving a brief nod in her direction as she makes a beeline for her sister and her sister’s shadow on the other side of the room. 

“Where are we going?” Lin growls, his wrist starting to hurt from her talons digging into his flesh, and he tries to free himself and escape, not wanting to remotely associate with Milla or Jude at this moment.

“Shh, no time for questions,” she laughs loudly as she plops down on a stool and pulls Lin with her depositing him next to her. Lin falls on the metal seat with a thud and is about to snap at her when he looks up, Milla’s smiling face just a few inches from his own and thinks that can’t be good. It’s never good when she smiles like that, toothy and wide with a glimmer of insanity in her pink irises. 

“Good morning, Lin, how was the tour?” Milla asks, and Lin can smell the faint scent of her strawberry lipgloss, so he pushes her back by her shoulders, settling her back in her seat. If he’s too close to see each application of her mascara like the rings of a tree, then she’s too close for comfort. 

Clearing his throat he replies, “Quite nice, now can you please explain why I’m here?”

“Excellent question, Lin,” Milla hums and hops off her chair to a metal cabinet in the back of the room, pulling a laptop bag out and sets it on the table, unzipping it to procure a computer. It’s quite shiny, and doesn’t look like it’s been used, barcode label in the top left corner, Taurus logo plastered on the front and Lin wonders why she’s procuring a computer but doesn’t bother asking immediately. That is until she sets the laptop in front of him.

“Is this for me?” He asks, watching the screen cycle through the start-up screens until it settles on a login page. Milla comes behind him and reaches over his shoulder typing ‘LLongDau’ and a password into the dialogue boxes, and it opens to a home screen, background set to a default. Pondering for a moment he asks another question, “Why do I have my own—“  
  
“You’re an employee now,” Milla says absent-mindedly and opens a program, entering the proper credentials, “I’ll get you all your passwords in a minute,” she mumbles and double clicks on a few items opening them up on the screen. 

“No I’m not,” Lin says and doesn’t really bother arguing with her, scanning his eyes over the numbers and graphs and figures, trying to discern the data she had already begun referencing in detail. After a couple minutes of explanation he stops her, “I’m not an employee.”  
  
Musee, who had somehow remained silent throughout the whole ordeal looked up from her phone and giggled, “Didn’t Mr. Outway tell you?”  
  
“I—“ Lin starts and thinks back to a few days ago. _Would you mind doing a favor for me?_ And he turns around in his metal chair to face Milla, her face once again too close for comfort and sputters, “I—I’m not—“  
  
“The grant proposal should be around six-hundred words in length—about two-hundred and fifty on the organization’s background and the rest on the need for the project,” Milla explains, dragging a rolling whiteboard from behind the computer stations, drawing some diagrams behind her, blonde hair swishing around her slight body like the tail of a cow. She only stops to tug her skirt down a couple of times, and when she’s finally done with her explanation, Milla turns around, her expression far more sinister than Lin remembered it being in the past. “Any questions?”  
  
Lin looks helplessly behind him at the data, and then back to Milla, still grinning wildly. For a second he turns to Musee who just shrugs and taps on her phone with her long nails and looks at Milla again. She now has her arms crossed over her chest. Lin turns again to the computer screen and spots Jude staring vacantly at a desktop, his phone buzzing next to him. They make eye contact for a moment and then both look away, Lin finally providing his response, “None.”  
  
“Excellent, I’ll email you the additional information and we can get to work,” Milla exclaims, hopping back on to her chair and starts typing rapidly, nails clicking on every key. Lin doesn’t exactly know how to reply, but knows that Gaius is far more charming and devious than he ever imagined him to be, and made a mental note of the choice words he’d give Gaius over lunch in a few hours.   
  
“Fucking—really?” Lin mumbles to himself, opening a new document reading the requirements for the grant proposal Milla had sent over and sighs, figuring that this wouldn’t take him very long and then he’d be on his way. Just as he’s about to get started on his work, Musee’s voice breaks his train of thought.  
  
“Jude darling, would you do a coffee run?” She says in that sing-song tone of hers, smile lighting up her mischievous features.   
  
“I—I’m working on—“  
  
“Yes Jude, I could certainly use some caffeine,” Milla says from her computer, not bothering to remove her gaze from whatever was so exciting on her computer. Lin looks up long enough to see Jude sigh heavily and give in, and he almost comments on how the two women controlled his life, but refrains, deciding that he might as well take advantage of the free coffee service.  
  
Jude pushes himself from his seat and trudges over to Musee who hands him a bright pink sticky note with the orders written on it and he sighs again and looks at Lin with a hollow expression, “You want anything—wait, iced grande black Americano, great.” Lin doesn’t reply and nods, Jude pushing mechanically through the doors disappearing down the hall.   
  
“He makes my day _so_ much easier,” Musee laughs and props her feet up on the table, playing a game on her phone. Milla nods in reply and Lin just turns back to his work.   
  
They work in relative silence for a while, save for the occasional curse from Musee when she fails to break her high score. Lin finishes the first draft and pauses to look at his phone, wondering what’s taking Jude so long—the coffee shop was just downstairs on the first floor of the campus in building three, the building they were already in, but thinks maybe the line is long. That is, until he notices a missed call and voicemail from an all-too-familiar out-of-state number.   
  
Hesitating for a moment, he picks up the phone, “I’ll—uh, I’ll be back,” he says to neither Milla nor Musee in particular, stumbling up from his chair, making a direct line to the door in the back of the room. He wants to listen to it, he wants to know what it says, but he doesn’t at the same time, hearing Gaius’ voice in his head.   
  
_You’re all I’ve ever wanted_.  
  
Pushing the double doors open, he jumps when he sees Jude standing outside in the hallway, coffee orders in paper drink holders resting by his feet. Quirking an eyebrow, Jude looks up and the color drains from his face as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.

“Hi,” Jude says and gives a small wave, fidgeting with his coat. Lin makes a motion for him to wait and listens to the voicemail, pressing the phone against his ear.   
  
_“This message is for Dr. Long Dau this is…_ ” and Lin inhales sharply, listening to the rest of the message, _“Congratulations on your selection as a finalist. We’d like to schedule the final portion of the interview so if you could please call us back at..”_ and his heart sinks. Good news isn’t supposed to make him feel this way, he tells himself, but it does, and there isn’t much he’s able to do to fight the growing chasm of sadness in his gut.   
  
Moving the phone from his ear, he taps on the screen several times, saving the call-back number and setting a reminder for himself to return the voicemail when he’s able. Lin looks up at Jude who hasn’t moved, texting on his phone with a stupid smile across his features. Raising an eyebrow, Lin asks, “Who are you texting?”  
  
Jude’s face falls, “No one.” Shifting on his feet, he nods his head toward Lin’s phone and counters, “Who called?”  
  
Lin looks down at the out-of-state number and clears his throat, “Nobody.” Jude shrugs and looks back at his phone, smiling again and Lin rolls his eyes, “Why are you smiling?”  
  
“No reason,” he snaps, and immediately sets his youthful features into a frown that didn’t suit his gentle face, “Why do you look so worried?”  
  
“Nothing,” Lin mutters and meets Jude’s gaze. They stare at each other for some time before Jude’s phone dings in his hand and Jude instantaneously looks down tapping a reply on his keyboard. Lin smirks, “Oh, I know. Bet it starts with A and ends with E,” and laughs at his own joke.  
  
Frowning, Jude tilts his head and brings his fingers to scratch his cheek, “It—what? It ends with N. Why do you—,” Jude’s face falls and he stares at Lin horrified, “It’s not. It isn’t—“  
  
“Asshole starts with A and ends with E, but nice job confirming what I already knew,” Lin laughs to himself and crosses his arms over his chest, nodding to the phone still in Jude’s hand, “Thought it was over.”  
  
“Fu—uh—don’t tell anyone,” Jude stammers and shoves his phone back into his back pocket, picking up the coffee order sitting by his feet. Lin just shrugs and figures that it’s not really any of his business and goes back to his own problems, interrupted once again by Jude’s babbling, “It’s not like I wanted to and—“  
  
“Not wanted to what?” A second, authoritative voice says from behind Jude. Lin looks up, knowing that it can only belong to one person and he pushes his black bangs from his eyes, suppressing the grin on his lips when Gaius approaches, his arms crossed over his chest. Jude’s face pales and he looks down at the coffee order in his hand.   
  
“Uh, I—,” and doesn’t bother finishing his statement, wordlessly handing Lin his Americano, striding back through the double doors of the research facility, disappearing out of sight. Lin shakes his head and catches himself before he chuckles, popping a straw in the top of his drink.

“That was odd,” Gaius remarks and shoves his hands in his pockets.  
  
Shrugging, Lin replies, “Teenagers.” Gaius seems to accept this response and nods. They stay in comfortable silence for a while, Gaius eventually procuring his own phone from the inner lining of his suit jacket and Lin looks up, asking, “So is this the favor? Writing Maxwell’s grant proposals?”  
  
Removing his gloves and tapping on the glass screen, Gaius gives a half-smirk and says, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about—purely accidental.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Lin sighs and leans against the wall. The Americano is all right, certainly not one that Nadia or Leia would make, but decent, and the bitter taste wakes him up from the mid-afternoon lull that he’d settled into. He isn’t sure how long he’d been stuck in the uncomfortable lab chair, typing away on his computer, but it hadn’t been as dull as he’d expected. “I don’t mind.”  
  
Furrowing his brow, Gaius clarifies, “Really?” Lin shakes his head ‘no’ and Gaius laughs, warm and low, “I thought for sure I was going to have to compensate you somehow.”  
  
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Lin says, rocking on the balls of his feet, taking a step toward Gaius, running his fingers under the lapels of his suit jacket and leaning up to kiss his cheek. Gaius mutters something about being at work and Lin rolls his eyes, moving to kiss him on his lips, not a single employee in the long hallway. Gaius doesn’t fight him and wraps his arms around Lin’s waist. They stay together like that for some time until Gaius clears his throat.  
  
“We’ll see,” he says, and Lin laughs. Gaius goes back to tapping on his phone and says idly, “My sister is visiting next week.”  
  
“Karla?”  
  
“She is my only sister, yes,” Gaius chuckles, and Lin snorts, breaking eye contact.

“I’d love to introduce you two—properly, you know.”

Lin had talked to her a few times, usually when he had to set Skype up for Gaius so he could video chat with her, and she was much like her brother—polite, yet direct and confident. Gaius said it came with being a teacher, but Lin figured it was just a standard Outway trait.   
  
“Yeah I—“ Lin starts to say, interrupted by his phone in his back pocket, ringing loudly. He makes a motion for Gaius to wait and pulls it out, looking at the same out-of-state number already saved in his contact book and immediately clicks it closed, silencing the ringing. A few moments ago the thought of being introduced to Gaius’ family made him happy, knowing how important it was to the other man, but now it makes him feel awful. Looking up at Gaius’ face all he can hear in the back of his head is:  
  
 _You’re all I’ve ever wanted_.  
  
“Who was it?” Gaius asks, and Lin shakes his head.   
  
“Nobody—yeah, I’d love to meet Karla,” he finishes his previous thought, and Gaius grins, wider than Lin thinks he’d ever seen him smile, and his stomach flips and pulls, heart stinging in his chest with every flutter of emotion that crashes through his body.   
  
_You’re all I’ve ever wanted, too,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say anything else.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you ; 3;


	18. Selfish Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moving thing has been no bueno... but here we are with 18!

Alvin had a tendency to come by Jude’s dorm room unannounced. It wasn’t really unwelcome, Jude guessed, just unannounced. He’d show up with take-out and a bottle of wine, scarf loose against his collarbone, running his fingers through his brown hair and ask Jude if he was busy while simultaneously apologizing for the lack of a text message warning and it drove Jude crazy, but still, he couldn’t deny him—Alvin’s smile still made his heart thump in his chest.  
  
As taxing as it had been, Jude had been trying to avoid going over to Alvin’s apartment as often as he had previously. He knew that it wasn’t much longer before the semester ended and it would all be over for good, so he figured there wasn’t much of a point in holding on.  
  
And yet, even though he realized this in the rational part of his brain, the irrational part still told his stomach to lurch when Alvin showed up on his doorstep.  It told him to open the door and let him in and disappear to the bathroom to fix his appearance. It told him to laugh at Alvin’s bad jokes and drink too much wine and sit too close and take his clothes off in the small hallway to his bedroom as he tugged Alvin behind him. 

In fact, that’s about where Jude is now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his underwear twisted around his knees, biting his lower lip with his hands wrapped in Alvin’s hair, soft breaths of pleasure escaping as desperate pleas for Alvin to stop teasing. Alvin has his head buried in between Jude’s thighs, his tongue running along the underside of Jude’s cock, and Jude knows Alvin’s going slow and controlled on purpose and it’s driving him insane—as was the usual with that man.  
  
“Just—fuck, Alvin, please,” Jude manages to say, and tugs on Alvin’s brown locks, trying so badly to get him to stop playing around and take him, but Alvin doesn’t listen and just twitches the corners of his lips into a smile, pulling back and sitting on his heels.  
  
“Is that what you want?” He asks looking up through his lashes, tongue darting out to grace his lips as he chews on one corner. There’s a smug smirk dancing behind his irises and his whole expression—no, his whole _demeanor_ —makes Jude’s legs feel weak, and he’s thankful he’s sitting on the bed.  
  
He can’t even think about responding, not when Alvin’s kneeling in his briefs in front of him, bold designer logo emblazoned on the waistband hugging his hipbones low and snug, and all Jude does is nod instead. Alvin seems to accept this answer and laughs, deep and dangerous, and Jude’s heart beats harder, ringing in his ears.  
  
Inhaling sharply, he wraps his hands around the edge of the mattress, sheets twisted between his fingers, and Alvin hand is around the base of his cock, tongue lapping at his precum, and slides lower and lower, taking more of him slowly and deliberately. Unable to stand it any longer, Jude thrusts upward roughly, and it doesn’t seem to phase Alvin in the slightest, who just grins around him and increases his pace, tongue working the head every time he comes up and it feels so fucking good Jude can’t keep himself upright and collapses on his back against the mattress, sighing breaths heavy with anxiety and tension.  
  
He thinks Alvin laughs around him but it comes out as more of a hum, vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through his body, and he exhales with a whimper, “Fuck, that—that do it—ah—again.”

Jude doesn’t know if Alvin heard him and Jude’s about to repeat himself, but the sensation is back and it’s _better_ because Alvin’s not laughing, he’s moaning. He’s moaning Jude’s name, words muffled by the cock shoved deep down his throat as he sucks him harder and faster, asking in between gasps for air whether Jude likes it.  
  
_Of course_ , his mind says, but Jude can’t get his mouth to cooperate, and little more than a loud, desperate, nonsensical mantra of ‘fuck’ and ‘oh god’ rings off the thin walls of his dorm room instead. He throws his forearm over his mouth, worried his neighbors can hear every gasp he makes, biting down on his own skin to silence himself.

“Louder,” Alvin says, harsh and guttural, and it almost sends Jude over the edge, but he can’t ignore an order. Not when he moves to sit up on his arms and looks down, locking his eyes with Alvin’s own, and he just nods again, falling back onto his elbows in a wrecked heap, chest heaving with the weight of his gasping breaths.

Desperately fighting the urge to try and stifle his whimpers, Jude relaxes, and he doesn’t even have to exaggerate his own vocalizations. With nothing to muffle them, the sound of his own cries resounds louder and louder off the walls, and Jude knows he isn’t going to last much longer. He’s not going last when Alvin’s telling—no, _commanding_ Jude to say his name, tell him how close he is and tell Alvin how much he wants him, and before Jude realizes it, he’s thrusting upward, coming into Alvin’s mouth.

Sweating and tired, body still trembling from his orgasm, Jude somehow clamors to sit upright. His cheeks are flushed and he doesn’t know what to say, his post-coital mind embarrassed that less than thirty seconds earlier he was unabashedly crying Alvin’s name and begging the other to swallow his cock, so he just laughs, breathless and exhausted.

“You taste so good,” Alvin says, breaking the silence, and pushes his brown hair from his eyes, alight with mischief, saliva dripping onto his chin, “And you—“ he hesitates but sighs and finishes, “—you look beautiful when you fall apart like that.”

It catches Jude off guard, and he swallows the lump in his throat, mind fogged from his insatiable lust, and it feels wrong. It feels wrong and _sinful_ to hear those words. It feels sinful to want someone this much, knowing that the future between the two of them held nothing but empty promises, but Jude disregards his thoughts. After all, he’s not seeking salvation.  
  
Opening his mouth to reply, his stomach sinks when he hears the scratching of a key in the lock of his dorm room, and his eyes widen in fear when he hears a familiar voice calling “Jude!” echoing in the walls of his sparse living room, and he remembers (and regrets) giving Leia a key. Or rather, she had stolen it and copied it, and Jude pauses, shaking his head, wondering why he let his mind drift while he sat with his underwear around his knees and another man between his thighs on the floor of his bedroom. Thankfully, they’d closed the door.  
  
Alvin furiously wipes his chin and turns back to Jude, a panicked look set into his (irritatingly) handsome features, “Is that—“  
  
“Jude! I’m hungry, make me something—where are you?” Leia calls from the living room, and Jude shoots up off the bed faster than he ever has in his life, pulling his underwear over his naked figure and grabs Alvin by one of his biceps, shoving him into the closet.  
  
“Stay in here,” he hisses and Alvin chuckles.   
  
“Why? Already came out in high school,” he replies with a wink, and Jude rolls his eyes and slams the door on him, clamoring toward the bedroom door and opening it, stumbling out to find Leia standing in his kitchen, rifling through his barren pantry. She’d somehow found the only snack food he had—a kind-of-old-by-now bag of Cheerios—and stuffed them into the pockets of her cheeks like a chipmunk.  
  
“Woah,” Leia says through a mouthful of food, and she swallows, wrinkling her nose at the taste of stale cereal, “Did I interrupt something?” Her brown hair is pinned up to the back of her head, hidden under a beret, and she taps the toe of her bright pink boots against the cheap linoleum flooring.  
  
“What?” Jude asks flatly, and tries to smooth part of his hair out against his head, “I was uh—just—“ he stutters and looks down at his nearly naked body, covered only by his boxer briefs and realizes that he’s made a terrible mistake.  
  
She doesn’t comment on his choice of attire and shakes her head, “No need to explain to me. It’s been rough without Alvin, huh?”  
  
“I—what? No, no, no I wasn’t—“  
  
“Don’t apologize. It’s normal, I mean we all—“  
  
“Leia, stop, no.”

“—log on to the Internet when we’re lonely and, you know. You’re a teenage boy. I mean, when I went to that conference and Nadia—“  
  
“Leia,” Jude whines and buries his face in his hands. Thankfully, she stops, and Jude looks up from underneath his black hair at her giggling face, smile stretched wide across her cheeks, and she looks positively _delighted_ at Jude’s discomfort. He snorts, “I’m getting a robe,” and shuffles to the bathroom to the hook behind the door and frowns when it isn’t there. He thinks about the last time he had it and mentally retraces his steps, eventually realizing that he’d washed it, so he hung it up in the closet with— _Alvin_ and spins around on his heel when Leia clicks her tongue from the living room.  
  
“Jude! You had take-out without me and, what is this, white wine? Where’d you get that?” She asks, picking up the bottle and examines the label, and he trots down the hallway to the living room, Leia standing by his coffee table, uncorking the top and sniffing the tiny amount that swished in the bottom of the bottle. “Smells expensive.”  
  
“Yeah I got it from a, uh—a friend? He, er, _she_ , yeah she is a, you know, good friend.”  
  
“Good friend, or _good_ friend?” she questions with an unnecessarily exaggerated wink, and Jude fights the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
“Uh, she’s a _good_ friend,” Jude stammers and makes a dramatic wink in reply. Sort of—he can’t actually wink at all, so Jude ends up squeezing both of his eyes shut and Leia laughs so hard she snorts a little.  
  
“Glad you’re back out there—oh! Was she here? Is that why you’re naked?” Grabbing a used, empty wine glass, Leia pours herself the remaining contents of the lukewarm bottle and frowns when it isn’t as much as she expected, but downs it anyway. Jude raises an eyebrow at her behavior, but refrains from saying anything, as he’s the opposite of decorous and he eyes her looking into the bottle for more liquor when he sees Alvin’s coat draped over the back of one of his dining chairs and panics.

He could shuffle over there and try and sit on it, maybe shove it under the table if he’s lucky, but it could be a blanket too, right? After all who’s to say that it’s actually a coat at all. It’s just a piece of fabric with some buttons—it could be anyone’s coat, and almost as soon as he’s satisfied with the lie he constructed for himself, Leia’s picking up Alvin’s scarf, holding it in her hand, “Is this new?”  
  
_Fuck,_ he curses to himself, and can’t believe he noticed the coat when the scarf was right there. Leia’s staring at him with her bright green eyes, pretty and full of laughter as always, glimmering with amusement, and he can’t lie to her, so he just says, “It’s Alvin’s scarf.”

“Ohhh, I see—left over from when you two were together, huh?”  
  
Snapping his head upward, he can’t believe she just paved the way out for him and Jude rationalizes that he isn’t one to reject an offer so he adds: “Yeah, I uh, found it and wanted to um, add it to the burn pile?” It’s weak, but he hopes Leia buys it anyway and gestures to the paper sack still marked in Nadia’s handwriting by the entrance to his dorm. Leia shrugs and balls it up and tosses it from where she’s standing directly into the bag, fist pumping when she makes it in one shot.  
  
“Well that scarf was horrible anyway. I’d burn that first,” she replies, and Jude wonders if it’s his imagination, but he feels like she’s talking louder than she normally does, but doesn’t linger on it too long. She’s always been a little over zealous.  
  
“Right, yeah, burn the scarf,” he mutters in reply and scratches the back of his neck. Neither of them say anything for a while, Leia checking a text message on her phone before she looks up.  
  
“Weren’t you getting a robe?” Leia asks and stuffs her phone in the pocket of her shorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where is it? I’ll grab it. I can only stare at your naked body for _so_ long before it actually feels inappropriate.”  
  
“It’s uh—dirty, so don’t, um, grab it.”  
  
“Whatever, I’ll get you some PJs,” Leia tosses over her shoulder and walks toward the bedroom.

Jude panics and doesn’t know what to do to distract her from busting open the den of sin, so he does the first thing he can think of and asks: “Wanna order pizza? I still know Alvin’s credit card number, we can order like a hundred, I don’t care.”  
  
Leia stops dead in her tracks and immediately whips around to look at Jude and narrows her eyes, “Are you offering me free pizza?”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You’re, um, you’re my friend and that’s what friends do right? Like when Milla sent over Musee and Nadia after Alvin and I—you know, anyway, it’s just, it’s a nice gesture.”  
  
Opening her mouth to say something, she closes it again and Jude knows her well enough to know when she’s thinking hard, so he doesn’t interrupt her. Finally, she moves to speak when the bedroom door swings open and a very disgruntled Alvin stands in the doorway donning Jude’s navy robe with his hands on his hips. The robe is very, very clearly too small for him and rides high on his muscular thighs, biceps tight against the material of the sleeves, folds barely covering his chest, v-neck riding entirely too deep, almost to his navel, and Jude’s so distracted that he barely even remembers, _Alvin’s standing in front of—fuck—Leia._  
  
“Your friend looks a lot like Alvin,” Leia says, and cackles like a hyena behind her hand, nearly doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach as she falls forward and leans against the wall to catch herself. “Bet he’s a _good_ friend, too.”  
  
“Leia, please,” Jude mutters into his hands as he hides his face.

“You—put on some clothes, fuck,” Alvin says and reaches his hand up to run it through his hair but realizes the robe comes with him and cements his arm firmly at his side, “And you—“ he points to Leia and she looks up through her giggling, tears of hysteria coming down in fat droplets against her cheeks, “Quit it. Act like an adult.”  
  
“You’re—you’re—“ she stammers, pointing at the hem of Jude’s robe and how high it is on Alvin’s frame, and he doesn’t reply, but shimmies it a little further down his legs. Leia continues laughing into the lapels of her coat and manages to wipe her eyes with the back of one hand. Neither Jude nor Alvin say anything, and wait for her to finish. Eventually, she slows down to a soft heave and steadies her breathing, “Oh man, this is wild.”  
  
“Wild is certainly a word for it,” Jude says and rubs the back of his neck, looking up at Alvin’s face, brown bangs falling carelessly into his eyes, and he makes no effort to shove them from his vision. 

“Are you done?” Alvin asks and crosses his arms over his chest, frowning when his reach is too tight against the seams of the robe. He adjusts a little and then adds: “Do not burn that scarf.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I knew you were here,” Leia says and makes a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. “Kinda hard to miss your cologne. So what’s up? I thought _this_ ,” she gestures between the two of them, “was over?”  
  
“It is,” Jude confirms.  
  
“It isn’t,” Alvin says over him.  
  
Shooting a confused look to Alvin, Jude isn’t sure where that came from and wants to ask Alvin what he meant, but isn’t quite sure how, so he just stares at him dumbly, mouth hanging open, unable to vocalize even the most mundane of thoughts. Alvin doesn’t offer a single explanation, and his features fall into a disapproving look, an emotion that Jude had a hard time processing flashing for an instant across his face. 

“Right,” Alvin says, and drops his arms listlessly at his side. He doesn’t bother adding anything else, and Leia raises an eyebrow toward Jude, who just shrugs.  
  
After a second lapse of silence she finally says, “Well, I should be heading out anyway—early day tomorrow and all.” She rambles for a little while longer, idly filling the void as she collects the things she threw around the dorm room when she’d arrived, and Jude helps her, still just as naked as he was when she showed up. After her belongings are together, Leia says, “Night Jude. Good seeing you, Alvin,” and gives a half-hearted wave before departing, shutting the front door quietly behind her.  
  
Jude turns on his heel to rip Alvin a new one, but he forgets anything he was going to say when he spots Alvin leaning against the wall, knot on the robe coming completely undone and he remembers just how attractive the other man is. Alvin doesn’t continue the conversation in any capacity and merely asks, “Wanna finish?” nodding his head toward the bedroom. Jude complies and reaches his hand out to be led, mind spinning in every direction except where it needed to be.

There’s a million things he should say. There’s a million things he should ask Alvin—a million and one reasons why this wasn’t okay. Why it was sinful and wrong and why he should stop, but for the life of him, he just couldn’t bring himself to be rational. Not in the slightest. Not when Alvin is holding his hand, robe fluttering around his figure and the wine from earlier starts to hit him a little harder than it had before.  
  
_But that’s okay,_ he tells himself. After all, he isn’t looking for salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, chapter 18! I can't believe we're already here. Thanks for reading!


	19. Blazing Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the home stretch! It should be 24 chapters and 25 as the epilogue! c: 
> 
> Tbh, at this point everything just hurts.

There are boxes all over Lin’s apartment. Some have Jill’s excessively small handwriting scrawled on the sides of the cardboard and others have Lin’s large looped cursive, delicate and nearly unreadable. Lin isn’t sure what time it is as he starts going through the bookshelf in the living room next to the entertainment center, carefully packing large volumes of history and politics away in a box that reads ‘HEAVY’ in all capitals.

The two of them had been packing for the better part of the day, Lin having received the final offer letter for the fellowship via email a few days prior. The “final interview” had been conducted over the phone and had been about as anticlimactic as he’d expected, the recruiter on the other line explaining that between his prior work in his early graduate years, excellent letter of recommendation, and current commitments, he would be a good fit to the academic prestige of their University.

The final interview had been, at its core, his last opportunity to decide whether or not the job would be the right fit for him, whether the location of the University would be suitable for his needs and his final chance to say ‘no’ if the fellowship didn’t interest him. It had been his last opportunity to tell them that it wasn’t the right fit, that he couldn’t move, that he’d found everything he’d ever wanted _here_ on the East Coast.

But he didn’t say any of those things on the phone to the recruiter. Instead, he pictured Gaius in his mind’s eye, running his fingers through Lin’s hair, voice warm and heard, _‘_ _Take the opportunity. There isn’t anything holding you back_ _’_ and smiled, blocking the dull ache in his heart, and asked when he could start.

And Lin hated himself for it. Lin hated himself for not rejecting the offer, for not choosing to stay with Gaius, and for giving up on the only relationship that’s ever made him feel this way. But it wasn’t just that. No, Lin hated himself for wanting to excel, for wanting to succeed and make a name for himself that wasn’t his father’s _so badly_ he could trick his mind out of emotions and just give in. Just say yes. Just say yes to one of the best job opportunities that someone of his caliber deserved.

Sighing, Lin picks up his glass of red wine and looks at it briefly, thinking it probably isn’t a wise idea, but tosses it back anyway. Coughing, he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and goes to the kitchen to pour another one. He’s not quite drunk, but maybe a little tipsy. Jill said that they needed to drink, pack, and reminisce, but she’d spent most of her time cross-legged on the couch flipping through old photo albums, sighing heavily into her wine glass.  
  
“Remember this?” She asks, and Lin walks over and flops on the cushions next to her. She hands him a photo and he takes it between his fingers, immediately smiling. It’s the two of them from their undergraduate years on the steps of the library at their university’s annual farewell event to seniors, wristbands on, solo cups full of cheap liquor, laughing while they tried to angle the camera to best capture their selfie.  
  
“Of course,” he snorts, giving it back to her, and she places it in its holder in the album marked “Traditions” along the spine. A couple years ago, she’d gone through and made photo albums for his birthday, telling him even someone as salty as himself had to keep a few memories from time to time. Turning the pages, he frowns when he notices a photo of him, Jill and Alvin standing in a row of brightly lit trees, bundled up under scarves and thick coats, “When was that?”

“Annual lighting of the Yule Log, but when I put this together we were still dating. Want me to cut him out of it?” Jill asks, and dislodges it from its plastic holder. Lin looks at it again and he fights the twitch on his lips. Alvin’s standing in the center, one arm wrapped around Jill’s waist, the other haphazardly thrown over Lin’s shoulder, and, to Lin’s displeasure, they all look happy in the photo—even himself.  
  
Shaking his head he says, “Keep it, memories are memories right?”

“I—yeah,” she says, surprise in her voice, and returns it to its location, closing the album and setting it on the coffee table. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d say,” she adds and picks up her wine glass, twirling it between her carefully manicured fingernails. 

Lin knows it’s probably the wine, but doesn’t really care, and says the first thing that comes to his mind, even if he knows he’ll regret it later. “I don’t want to forget,” he whispers, and Jill remains silent, the dull hum of the dishwasher the only sound filling the room. After a few minutes, he continues, “I don’t want to forget this city. I don’t want to forget all the memories and moments and little things like—like the god awful smell of pollen in the Spring, and Jill I don’t want to forget you either. I don’t want to forget you and the Maxwells and even Alvin and his ugly scarves. But I—I don’t want—“  
  
“To forget Arst?” She half-asks, half-finishes for him as he stumbles over his words, tongue like a deadweight in his mouth, and he just nods. The dull ache in his heart is more like a sharp stabbing pain as his throat closes, and Lin fights the feeling of hopelessness as he tells himself that he can’t make himself forget about Gaius. He can’t forget about how his hand fits so perfectly in Gaius’, the way Gaius holds him in his arms when they’re together and how Gaius is the only one that can not only hold his own in a debate with Lin, but kiss him ten minutes later as if nothing happened.

He reminds himself he can’t forget. But he can’t make new memories, either. 

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice cracks. Jill wordlessly leans her cheek against his shoulder as they lounge against the couch cushions and wraps her fingers in between his. Lin tells himself over and over that he isn’t going to cry, that he hasn’t cried in years, that his body’s probably forgotten what sadness even is but he still has a difficult time fighting the lump forming in his throat.

Eventually he laughs, “I’m such a fucking—Godddamit,” and hits his head against the wooden frame of the sofa, thinking it’d maybe knock some sense into him. But that’s Jill’s specialty.  
  
Clearing her throat, she says “You need to talk to him. You can’t just pack up and leave, Lin.”  
  
“I know, fuck, of course I know,” he says, voice raised, and rubs at his tired eyes before pulling apart their bodies and shoving himself off the couch. Lin thinks briefly about screaming, but not at Jill. Mostly at himself—maybe at the world. Maybe at Gaius for being smart enough to find his way into his heart, that Lin was sure had already closed itself off years ago, and he looks at his cellphone sitting on the armchair next to him. It isn’t too late to call, right?  
  
“Lin, no,” Jill says, her words more of a threat than anything else, and he looks back at her. She’s standing up with her arms crossed over her chest, and before she can do anything he snatches it off the seat and storms into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Almost instantly, she’s banging her fists on the wood and shouting, “Give that fucking phone back to me right now. Lin! You’re not sober and—“  
  
He drowns her out as he taps his favorites list, Gaius’ name at the top, and hesitates before clicking the contact. She’s right—he’s definitely drunker than he realized and he wobbles on his feet a little before sliding down against the wall, sitting down. Looking at the contact name, his heart beats faster as Gaius’ picture fills the square bubble next to his cell, home, and work numbers, and Lin’s thumb shakes as he dials the cell number and holds the phone to his ear.  
  
The ringing to connect to Gaius’ phone feels like it takes forever, even if Gaius picks up almost immediately, his deep voice coming through the receiver, _“Hello?”  
  
_ Lin just holds the phone in his sweaty palm, heart racing faster than he thinks it ever has in his life and despite how angry he was a few minutes ago, he can’t think of anything to say, so he just sits in his dark room. Jill is still bargaining with him on the other side of the door and he stares out his window at the city that never sleeps, twinkling underneath a starless sky.  
  
_“Lin? Are you alright—it’s nearly one in the morning.”_

 _No, no I’m fucking not alright,_ Lin’s mind tells him, and his chest tightens. For the second time that night he feels a familiar tightness in his throat, and he realizes he is crying this time, burying his face in his thighs, pulling his knees up to his chest, tears falling in warm droplets against his pant legs. But it isn’t the same as earlier. It isn’t silent and controlled. It isn’t short-lived and succinct. It’s too loud for his tastes and carries the full weight of his emotion with every choked sob he breathes into the receiver. It carries each memory locked deep in his mind and each moment they’ll never have together once he leaves.  
  
_“Lin, I—”_ Gaius starts, but trails off and remains silent until Lin’s able to say something. Even Jill’s stopped trying to convince him to unlock it and just mutters through the wood that she’ll be in the living room when he’s ready to talk.

Lin doesn’t know how long he sits there with his body shaking and his mind spinning from his inebriation and his own thoughts burning in his mind. Finally he manages to choke out, “Gaius I—I love you, and I’m sorry I—“ and he stops as his throat tightens and presses his face back into his knees, shoulders slumped.

There’s heavy breathing on the other side of the line and Gaius doesn’t reply immediately. Eventually he says, _“I love you too, Lin,”_ voice as smooth as the silk of his expensive ties, low and sincere, as if he’d been meaning to say those words since the moment they’d met on a wintry day in December. After a few seconds he asks, _“Why are you sorry?”  
_

Holding back another sob he replies, “I’m leaving, Gaius. In four weeks I’m—“ he tries to finish, he really, truly, sincerely does but he just doesn’t have the strength and he curls tightly around himself, withdrawing from the truth. For a second he looks up again at the sparkling skyline and then immediately goes back to the security of squishing his body into a tight ball.  
  
_“I—Lin, congratulations. Then you got the offer?”_ Gaius asks, genuine and _perfect_ , not a hint of malice or anger in his words. Lin nods against his thighs but remembers Gaius can’t see him and just wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and clears his throat.  
  
“Yeah,” he says and thinks that he might be out of energy to cry any longer, broken and hollow, eyes fiercely burning in his skull and rests his chin on the top of his knees. “Yeah, I did,” Lin confirms, and wonders why it has to be this hard. Why he had to fall for someone right before he left. _It isn’t fair_ , he thinks. But then again, life never is.  
  
“ _We’ll have to celebrate,”_ Gaius murmurs, and it’s soothing for Lin to hear as he presses his ear deeper into the receiver, just desperate to hear Gaius’ steady breathing. _“But for now, are you doing better?”_  
  
Nodding, Lin rolls his eyes at his non-verbal reply and confirms, “Yeah,” but he’s lying. He doesn’t want to make Gaius worry any more than he already has and just lays on his hard wood floor on his side, phone secure between his shoulder and his head.  
  
_“Good, I’ll be there at 9:30 in the morning. We’ll pick Karla up from the airport and head to brunch,”_ Gaius replies on the other line. There’s hesitation, sadness even, tracing his words, Lin thinks, even as he tries to keep an optimistic tone. Lin feels a sinking feeling in the bottom his stomach and just lays on his floor, emotionally compromised and unprepared to face the other man in the morning. _“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”_ Gaius asks and it actually makes Lin smile a little.

“No, I’m—It’s okay. Good night, Gaius,” Lin says and Gaius give his farewell before the line clicks dead and Lin just tosses his arm haphazardly away from his face, his phone clamoring to the ground underneath him. He doesn’t know how long he stares out his window, looking at the planes flying low in the sky, outlines of some of the world’s tallest skyscrapers towering in the distance on the ground of his bedroom, but eventually he falls asleep.

*  
  
Lin doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes up, body sore from how he’d been contorted on the floor and he instantly reaches for his phone just a short distance away from him and tries to click it on, but it’s dead, and he curses to himself, clamoring to his feet, stretching. Throwing it on the charger, Lin checks the alarm clock on the table and breathes a partial sigh of relief when it’s nine in the morning. Gaius will be there in thirty minutes, but at least he didn’t completely oversleep.  
  
Running his fingers through his black hair, he unlocks his bedroom door and pulls it open, peeking outside. Jill is asleep on the couch, her glasses still perched on the end of her nose and Lin laughs. She’d probably waited all night for him to come out and he thinks it’s sweet. He pulls a blanket off the back of the sofa and settles it over her sleeping figure, trying not to wake her up, but she still stirs a little.  
  
“Nn, Lin?” She asks sleepily, and sits up, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand, “How did—what did you say?”  
  
“I—nothing really. We talked about the job,” Lin mumbles and stumbles into the kitchen pulling painkillers out of the pantry and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Swallowing the pills, he continues, “He said congratulations. Anyway, I need to get ready, he’ll be here soon.”  
  
“Mhmm,” Jill yawns and curls back into the cushions of the couch, “Have fun.” She waves him off and goes back to sleep, champagne blonde hair curling over her body and Lin gives her a ‘good night’ before heading back into his room to grab his robe and shower. Curious, he checks his phone to see if he had any new messages. There was one sitting in his inbox from Gaius and Lin swallows, fearing what it said.  
  
_Remember I Will Be There At Nine Thirty. I Love You._

He smiles to himself and clicks his phone closed, padding to the bathroom to try and get ready as quickly as possible.  
  
*

Karla’s as much like Gaius as he’d imagined, poised and graceful, with the ability to say precisely the right thing at the right moment, and her opinions on things she was passionate about were both bold and well-researched, as she talked animatedly to Lin about her classroom across the brunch table, black bangs side-swept from her face, rosy eyes alight with conversation.  
  
“And that’s what we’re currently learning, isn’t that exciting?” She asked, clutching the champagne flute in her hands, grin wide and Lin nods. He’d opted for water at brunch, stomach still sick from his excessive wine consumption from the previous evening and he wondered how he’d managed to make it out the door on time. Miraculously, Gaius had been stuck in traffic and arrived ten minutes late, just enough time for Lin to blow dry his hair perfectly over one eye.

He’d been trying all morning to be as focused as possible, but Lin had been distracted since the moment Gaius picked him up, ushering him out the door quickly to pick his sister up at the airport. Despite their normal interactions, Gaius kissing him as a greeting, holding his hand in the car ride, asking his opinion on the best highways to take, Lin didn’t feel quite like himself, the events of the previous night looming at the forefront of his mind.  
  
In fact, he’s still a little distracted, and when it finally registers that Karla isn’t talking anymore he replies, “It is, you sound like you do amazing work,” and she laughs, the same laugh as Gaius, full of vivacity and kindness—the kind of infectious laugh that makes everybody want to smile. In fact, as soon as Lin catches himself, he returns to his usual expression and she giggles at that, too.  
  
“Arst was certainly right about you. You do always have an indignant look on your face.”  
  
“I have a—what?” Lin asks, looking over at Gaius, who just mutters something into his coffee and makes some sort of non-committal hand gesture with his free hand. “I didn’t quite catch that, _Arst_ ,” and Lin pinches Gaius in his side, and he laughs, too, coffee bubbling around his lips.  
  
Clearing his throat he clarifies, “I believe I said you had an ‘indignant look’ but you know, I don’t quite remember,” and jabs his elbow into Lin’s side playfully. Lin snorts and goes back to his water, sometimes looking out the window. They were on the top story of a high rise, windows providing a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the cityscape, and Lin’s stomach lurched, thinking of how many memories he’d made in this city, how much he never got a chance to do, and how much he wanted to spend his future with Gaius, but it just isn’t reasonable, his mind says.,  
  
“Did you grow up here?” He asks Karla, and by extension Gaius, but he happened to be busy trying to text back a co-worker, soft ding of his cellphone going off moments before.  
  
Shaking her head ‘no,’ the high ponytail on top of her head comes loose and she moves to fix it, “We grew up in a small town a few states east of here, actually. It was nice, I suppose, if a little bit dull. I think our biggest news was when Arst ran for mayor and won when he was fourteen.” Karla snickers into her hand when Gaius looks up, frown set into his handsome features. “He was upset with the candidates, and didn’t think any of them would do a good job. So he ran as a write-in and won.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lin says, and leans on the palm of his hand to look at Gaius, who clicks his phone closed and turns to Lin, folding his hands on the table. “What else are you hiding from me, hm?”  
  
“Has he told you about his college years?” Karla asks leaning forward on her elbows across the brunch table. “How about how he got the nickname Gaius?” Lin shakes his head and side-eyes Gaius, who’s now flushed and trying to busy himself with checking his email, but he’s not very good at distracting himself with technology.  
  
“He hasn’t,” Lin laughs and moves his foot under the table to tap Gaius, who merely grunts in response.  
  
“I’ve made a mistake,” Gaius mumbles, looking at the screen on his phone.  
  
They talked rather easily, Karla every bit as charismatic as her brother, sharing story after story about Gaius and Lin couldn’t help but be fascinated, learning more than he already knew about the other man. 

He learned that Gaius hadn’t always been as perfect as he let on, spending the majority of his undergraduate years as a boisterous political activist—the kind of person Lin probably would’ve scoffed at, and got into more trouble than he let on when he’d spoken of his time at University. He learned that Gaius had always had a soft spot for animals, that no matter whether he had been five, fifteen or twenty-five he never stopped fighting for what he felt was right, and with every story Karla told, Lin’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know it was possible to fall any harder.  
  
Any anxiety that Lin felt from his actions the previous night seemed to dissipate as he talked with Karla as if he’d known her forever, Gaius interjecting only every so often to try and talk her out of something embarrassing. Nearing the end of the meal, she excused herself to the women’s room and Lin shifted in his seat, resting his head on his hand and crossed his legs, tapping Gaius’ knee with his foot.  
  
“She really looks up to you,” Lin says and Gaius leans back crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“I’m glad you had the chance to meet her,” he says, his usual speaking voice softer than before, and Lin frowns, moving to lean forward, resting his forearms on the table.  
  
“Yeah, I—“ and he swallows, his apprehension back in full force as he looks at Gaius, his normally determined eyes clouded with the same emotion he felt twisting at the bottom his stomach, turning and snaking and reminding him that nothing good lasts forever. “—I’m really glad I met her. At least once.”  
  
Chuckling, he nods in reply and says, “I wish—“ and doesn’t complete his sentence, trailing off to look at the empty coffee mug in front of him, and Lin flicks his eyes away, unsure of what to say. He wants him to finish his thought but he knows he can’t make Gaius do a single thing he doesn’t want to, and he’d always admired that about him, even if right now, it’s more of a hindrance than anything. Shaking his head he meets Lin’s gaze and runs his fingers through his ebon hair, black locks slipping through his gloved hand, diamond rings glimmering on his knuckles, “I really am proud of you.”  
  
Lin doesn’t reply, just holds Gaius’ wrist when he drops his arm to his side and Lin snorts, “I know you are—thank you.”

He wants to tell Gaius that he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to tell Gaius that he’d give the world for a thousand more moments just like today, but instead he chokes his words back in his throat and just flashes a grin that makes Gaius laugh. He’s all Lin ever wanted, true, but the thought of disappointing him just hurts worse. The thought of staying and worrying whether or not Gaius blamed himself makes Lin keep his thoughts to himself and enjoy the moment.  
  
After all, he’d better start making memories while he still had time left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be in Las Vegas at the end of this week through part of next partying it up, so I'm hoping to post 20 by Thursday. Thanks for sticking around!!


	20. Faster Than Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I legit can't believe we're already here ahhhhh. 
> 
> Poor Jude. I like need to write him a formal apology letter.

With upcoming finals, Jude’s classes seem to shift between either piling everything on at once or slowing down for the remaining weeks and assigning less work. It didn’t really make anything easier, since the lull in homework for some subjects just allowed him to concentrate on the harder classes instead. His Statistics course had thankfully fallen into the latter of the two outcomes, and he’d been able to work on the remaining assignments at his leisure, final unit test serving as the substitute for a cumulative final exam. The instructor even allowed time to work on homework in class and for that, Jude’s thankful as he loads the assignment screen through the course website, tapping his fingers on the table next to him.  
  
Leia’s seated to his right, drumming her fingers, too, sighing heavily at the problem on her monitor. Jude glances over at her workstation and thinks about telling her what the answer is as she scribbles something on the notebook resting on her knees, but decides against it. He’d been avoiding talking to her since last weekend.  
  
In fact, this is the first time he’s been in close contact with her since she left his dorm room on Saturday, and Jude had made a point to avoid her texts since then. She had sent him things like:  
  
_soooo wth was that?? D:_  
  
_like r u 2 dating or???_  
  
_bc i felt awk, tbh_  
  
_jude! r u even listening???_  
  
And Jude was thankful he’d turned off read receipts as he ignored her barrage of messages. Unfortunately for him, there’s absolutely no way to ignore her as she sits next to him in class. Fortunately for him, Leia’s currently so mad that he’d been ignoring her that she had made a point of looking Jude dead in the eye, huffing, and sitting down in her seat and completely disregarding his presence.  
  
They’d been working in silence for the better part of the hour and Jude thinks maybe he should say something to her, other students chattering around them, having idle conversations about their day or class. Opening his mouth, he closes it and looks back toward his monitor. He’s not really focused on his work, a significant amount ahead of schedule, and wonders if he should think about what to say first.  
  
But he can’t really come up with anything and stares past his computer at the front of the room, Alvin sitting at a laptop with a stack of papers next to him, grading with a red pen. One of his hands is pushing his hair away from his face and the other taps the side of his keyboard with the pen between his fingers, brown eyes flickering between the screen and the rubric. He looks up for just a second—long enough to meet Jude’s gaze—and the corners of Alvin’s mouth twist into a smirk, tongue darting out briefly before he chews on his lower lip.  
  
Flushing, Jude averts his attention back to Leia and realizes she’s been staring at him, her own eyes darting between Alvin and Jude, judgment clear on her features, and Jude can’t think of a single excuse to make. Finally he opens his mouth and says, “I—“  
  
“What the hell is going on with you?” Leia hisses under her breath, putting her hand on her hip as she turns in her chair, and Jude doesn’t really know what to say. He has absolutely no idea what’s going on between him and Alvin. Their relationship is caught in some sort of purgatory that Jude can’t figure out how to escape and he’d been avoiding any sort of confrontation—after all, the last time he tried that, it ended pretty poorly.  
  
“Still being a disappointment,” Jude mutters and goes back to his assignment, entering the answer to the problem on his numeric keypad, hitting the next arrow without turning back around to Leia. “What are you expecting me to say?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she huffs, exasperated, and throws her hands up, waving them around frantically. Alvin looks up from his chair and raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes, Miss Rolando?” He asks, and leans his cheek against his hand, propping an elbow up on the table, “Do you need something?” The rest of the students in the class turn their head toward the back row of the classroom to stare at Leia and Jude shrinks underneath his seat to try and avoid everyone’s gazes.  
  
“I—no,” Leia stammers and shakes her head, and Alvin shrugs his shoulders, going back to his work, but not before making eye contact with Jude again, his eyebrow still raised in confusion and it just makes Jude slide lower in his chair as he busies himself with answering the next question on the screen.  
  
Leia doesn’t bother continuing the conversation, and when Jude glances over at her, she’s very clearly fuming in her seat and it makes Jude nervous. Leia has a rather explosive personality and he can only imagine what she’s going to say to him once class is finished. Jude wonders if there’s an exit in sight—at least for this conversation.  
  
Finally, Alvin stands up and stretches, reviewing the homework and final expectations with the class before dismissing them. Jude packs up his bag and uneasily looks over his shoulder at Leia who has somehow already completely gathered her things and waits at the exit to the classroom, tapping her foot impatiently. Jude isn’t sure how she managed to dart over there that fast, but doesn’t question. Leia’s dangerous when she sets her mind to it. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, preparing to be royally bitched out by his best friend, Jude slings his backpack over his shoulders and trudges toward the front of the classroom, passing the desk Alvin’s still seated at, doing his best to ignore him, but then he hears, “Hey Jude, c’mere.”

Gripping the straps of his backpack tightly, Jude throws an apologetic look to Leia who responds with another dramatic huff and pulls out her phone from her back pocket, wandering off. Jude turns on the ball of his foot and notices the classroom has completely cleared, so he relaxes a tiny bit before replying, “What?”  
  
“Wanna grab lunch?” Alvin asks, tossing him a grin. It makes Jude’s heart skip a beat. He tries not to let it affect him, but the longer Alvin flashes his lopsided grin at Jude, the more his resolve melts and he can’t find it in him to tell Alvin ‘no,’ as much as he wants to.  
  
Well, he doesn’t really _want_ to say no. He wants to say yes. As a matter of fact, the way Alvin holds his gaze and tilts his head a little to the left, hair falling in his face, scarf loose around his neck, there isn’t a single thing Jude would say no to. He could tell Jude, _‘Hey, let’s fuck lunch, I’ll fuck you instead’_ and Jude would just nod and throw himself over the desk. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that Jude _needs_ to tell Alvin no. Their relationship was running on a limited timeframe toward the edge of a cliff and he couldn’t let himself fall any deeper. He needs out, and being with Alvin is more like quicksand: and the further he struggled, the more he became trapped in his own selfish desires for the impossible.

And even with that knowledge, Jude still wants to say yes. Just as he’s about to agree, Jude’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he motions for Alvin to wait as he checks it. It’s just a few texts from Leia but he reads them anyway, figuring he’d already ignored her enough.  
  
_meet me & nadia @ the coffee shop asap_

 _4 ur own good_  
  
His chest tightens and Jude clicks his phone closed. He looks up at Alvin and responds, “I can’t—I have to meet Leia so, I uh,” his voice cracks and Jude thinks it’s the worst excuse ever, but he’s at least a little proud of himself for going against every single racing thought in his head that wanted to give in to Alvin’s demands.

“I’ll walk you,” Alvin says and packs up his laptop and papers in his shoulder bag, slinging it over his body. He wraps an arm around Jude’s shoulders, flicks off the light, and steers them out of the room, kicking the door closed with his foot. Jude doesn’t even make an attempt to object.  
  
*  
  
They walk mostly in silence, Alvin running his fingers through Jude’s hair from time to time, or commenting on a particular structure that lingers around the campus grounds. When they finally arrive at the coffee shop, Alvin just stops in front of the entrance to the coffee shop and leaves his arms around his neck, pushing Jude’s bangs away from his face.  
  
Alvin’s a lot taller than Jude. Jude’s head comes just a little above his shoulders and he has to look up to look into Alvin’s eyes as he runs his fingers along Jude’s cheek and asks, “You busy tomorrow night?”  
  
“I—I, um, I don’t know,” Jude lies, and he knows Alvin can see right through his façade because all Alvin does in reply is quirk an eyebrow and grin wide, leaning over to catch Jude’s lips in his own. It startles Jude, and he stands frozen for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth in reply, letting Alvin’s tongue grace gently over his.  
  
In their entire time together, Jude doesn’t think that Alvin’s ever kissed him like this—not the type of kiss, necessarily, but the time and place, standing in front of the most crowded coffee shop on campus, students bustling around them. Jude has his eyes closed, so he doesn’t _really_ know if anyone’s staring, but even if they are he doesn’t mind, and brings his arms up to wrap around Alvin’s waist, pushing harder into the other man’s mouth.

It’s almost romantic—almost being the key word—and finally Alvin pulls back, giving Jude a small peck on the nose, “Bet I can think of better uses for that mouth,” and winks and it’s so cute and _stupid_ Jude laughs in reply.  
  
“Wait here,” he breathes against Alvin’s neck and pulls their bodies apart, darting into the coffee shop. It doesn’t take him long to find Leia. She’s sitting cross-legged at a table facing the entrance and to her left Lin and Nadia are engaged in a conversation, but stop as soon as Jude enters, all three of them shooting Jude the same impassive expression.  
  
No one makes a move to speak, so Jude clears his throat, “I can’t make coffee, er, lunch, whatever.”  
  
“Oh that is so typical of you Jude,” Leia says and puts her hands on her hips, “You do this every time we have an argument—just shut down and run off and eventually just act like nothing happened at all.”  
  
“Nice one, lover boy. You really fucked that one up,” Nadia comments and jerks her thumb toward the window, and Jude looks over his shoulder, Alvin standing with one hand in his pants pocket, the other fiddling on his phone. “Mark my words, you’re on a permanent shit list.”

“Even I have to admit, I’m disappointed in you,” Lin adds and sips his Americano through a straw.  
  
“What is this? An intervention?” Jude asks, concern tracing his words. He looks at the faces of the people standing in front of him and both Leia and Nadia look irritated. Lin on the other hand looks the same as he usually does, delicate features set into a severe frown.  
  
“No, I was here to get a cup of coffee and say hello to a friend—her, not you,” he clarifies to Leia over his shoulder, gesturing to Nadia, and Leia’s hopeful expression is replaced with one of discontent, “I don’t care who you’re fucking, I just couldn’t pass up on terrorizing you.”  
  
“Gee, thanks,” Jude says in a flat tone. “Anyway, I need to go,” he continues, glancing at the time on his watch, “I’ll text you later, okay?” He says to Leia and turns around to exit the coffee shop. Leia calls that she’s expecting a full, detailed report of (as she put it) ‘what the heck is going on’ and won’t settle for anything less, and Nadia just tells him she’ll snap his chicken neck like a twig if he blows Leia off again.

*  
  
The restaurant Alvin picks for lunch might be a little too formal, but Jude doesn’t complain, especially when Alvin slides into the booth next to him, putting an arm over the back of the seat and Jude leans a little closer, pointing at different options on the menu, asking Alvin what he wants to try.

Jude has to congratulate himself on his complete and utter denial of the situation, knowing in the back of his mind that the next couple of weeks are the beginning of the end, but Alvin has this effect on him where he just can’t say ‘no.’ It isn’t really Alvin, Jude guesses, so much as the feelings for the other man that had been steadily developing the last few months. He recognized that at some point he’d have to say ‘good-bye,’ but right now he isn’t really ready to face that reality.

Instead he just curls into Alvin’s chest, lets Alvin brush his fingertips against his neck and nuzzle into the top of his head like he always had and always would belong there.

Chuckling a little, Alvin says, “You’re cute,” and it makes Jude’s stomach lurch and turn and practically float away with the butterflies that flutter in all directions. “I’m really gonna miss you,” he continues, planting a kiss on Jude’s cheek.

And suddenly, there it is. There’s the renunciation of his relationship staring him right in the eyes, and the recesses of his mind whisper _it’s only temporary_. He crinkles his nose at the thought, wondering where it came from. Just moments ago, he’d been telling himself to just ignore that little cautioning voice and enjoy the way Alvin’s strong arms hold him tightly against his side.  
  
But it doesn’t seem to go away. It doesn’t seem to dissipate, and by the time they’re almost done with their main courses, the voice is nagging at him in full force, taking over the denial that had set in when Alvin kissed him in front of the coffee shop, open-mouthed and hard, lips miming the words he was too afraid to speak. Suddenly, Jude feels uncomfortable pressed against Alvin. Like the other man’s arm is a deadweight of foreshadowing to the heaviness that his heart would bear witness to in a few short weeks.

He’d stayed silent since Alvin last spoke, and finally Jude has enough courage to say the only thing on his mind, “Don’t remind me, please.” Swallowing a bite of his salad, he looks down at his lap, trying to push back the myriad of thoughts and emotions ready to burst, and rubs his face with his hands, hoping Alvin has enough sense to change the topic of conversation. Jude isn’t going to be able to maintain an even keel for much longer.

“Jude,” Alvin starts and finally pulls his arm off Jude’s shoulders, moving to face him in the booth, “It’s been fun but I can’t—you can’t just pretend that I’m not leaving.”  
  
He wants so desperately for Alvin to be wrong that he starts frantically trying to lie to himself. _It’s days away. You still have time left together. Maybe he’ll stay a little longer._ In the end, there isn’t much Jude’s able to tell himself and he whispers, “I know you’re moving back home but it just, it feels so real you know?” resting his hands on his knees he finishes, “Like we are dating. Like we could be together and this could work. If you weren’t—“  
  
“But I am, Jude,” Alvin says, setting his fork on his plate, tossing his napkin on the table, and moves to sit in the booth across from Jude, folding his hands in front of him, “I’m trying to make this easier on you. I thought we’d make some good memories, you know?”  
  
Something about that doesn’t sit right with Jude. Seconds ago, he was lying to himself that the end wasn’t inevitable and now he’s downright angry, hair on the back of his neck prickling. He’s not mad that Alvin said he’d been trying to make it easier on him, no. He’s mad that even at the end of their relationship, Alvin’s too much of a coward to admit even the slightest affirmation that the past few months hadn’t been totally one-sided. He’s mad that Alvin had to twist his words and turn it back on Jude that it was all for him.

Laughing, Jude asks, “Easier on me? What about the way you’ve been acting the last few weeks has been easy on me?” Alvin knew Jude’s feelings. He’s known for weeks and yet he somehow thought _pretending_ to give Jude what he wanted was the right solution.  
  
“I just—“  
  
“You thought you were making it easier on me when you what, when you came over and took care of me when I was sick? When you brought movies I liked and my favorite food to share underneath a blanket while you fucking looked more at me than the goddamn movie?”  
  
“Jude, we’re in—fuck—we’re in a restaurant, keep it down.”  
  
“You want me to keep it down?” Jude hisses, sitting up on his knees, and leaning in close to Alvin’s face across the table, “That’s not what you said the other night when I was underneath you with my legs wrapped around your hips, was it? Or when your c—”  
  
“I said keep it down,” Alvin breathes, his voice low and the slightest bit shaky, and it might’ve been dangerous if there was a single bone in Jude’s body that was afraid of him, “We can talk on the way back to campus, shit,” Alvin finishes, running a hand though his hair, pulling it away from his face.  
  
“Alvin,” Jude comments after a few minutes of silence, speech calm but unstable, each sound catching in his throat, “Alvin, I can’t do this. Not even for two more weeks. I thought I could, but I—I can’t. I want you so bad and this, this isn’t good for me or you, really.”  
  
Jude can hear Alvin swallowing thickly across the table, and before his denial can talk him out of it he throws his napkin by his unfinished plate and pushes himself up out of the booth, making a direct line for the restaurant exit, ignoring his heart’s desperate pleas to turn around and apologize. Part of him wants Alvin to stop him, like they do in the movies, but Alvin doesn’t move from his seat. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jude clicks on Leia’s text conversation and sends:  
  
**_you busy? i have a breaking news headline for you._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 20/25 posted! Look forward to more c:


	21. Glorified by Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, we're late again T^T I keep writing things that aren't this and Camp NaNoWriMo started today so I've been working on that.
> 
> Also work exploded??
> 
> Anyway, the final Gaiwin chapter before the ~thrilling conclusion~ in 23. Hope you enjoy c:

“Hey,” Jill whispers, and Lin looks up from his seat at her smiling face, her cap askew over her long blonde hair curled around the god awful shade of blue of her doctoral robes, and she waves a bedazzled flask in her hand, “Thought you might need this.”  
  
She isn’t entirely wrong. Even though it had been several years, he remembered his undergraduate convocation ceremony as unnecessarily long and dull. That time, he’d made the mistake of attending both the convocation as well as the commencement completely sober, and swore to Jill as they left that he was going to be piss drunk for his graduate ceremony. After all, this was the last time he would walk across that stage and the last time he would be bored out of his mind listening to a million and a half speakers he didn’t care about.   
  
Frowning, Lin takes the flask from her and she immediately procures another one from inside the folds of her heavy robe, sitting down next to him. Taking a sip, Lin sharply exhales at the taste of the straight vodka and says, “You can’t sit here. This area is for Political Science—“  
  
“Like I care,” she laughs and leans her head against his shoulder. Jill had decorated the top of her cap with their university’s crown logo, paw prints, and a French expression she’d told him the meaning of, but he’d already forgotten. “This the end of an era, you know? I’m not going to sit with the same people I’ve spent the last six years working with.” At that moment, the other French graduates wave to her (from their designated section) and she waves back.  
  
“I guess no one will really know as long as you stand up at the right time,” Lin mutters and takes another swig, biting back the urge to cough. “So, didn’t bother adding anything else to the vodka?”  
  
She snorts, “You’re twenty-eight—I shouldn’t have to.” He can’t really argue and just nods in agreement, crossing his legs. They sit together for a while in silence, watching the rest of the graduate students file in and find their appropriate sections. A few of the other Political Science students shoot Jill a strange look, but she stares them down until they ignore her. Finally she asks, “Is Arst here?”  
  
Lin looks up at the stands around them, “He should be,” he mutters, and checks his phone to see if there was any indication of where he’s sitting. There’s a few text messages, so he looks at the conversation windows. The first is from Milla:  
  
_Found Arst, we’re sitting on your side, to the left._  
  
And the next two are from Gaius:  
  
_I Brought A Camera_

The second one is about ten minutes after the initial message and it makes Lin start laughing out loud.   
  
_I Broke The Camera_  
  
Jill turns back to him and gives him a curious expression. Showing her the screen, she laughs, too, and he starts scanning the crowd for Milla’s wild blonde hair and spots it next to a mane of blue and green. The sisters are sitting with Gaius and Ludger there, too—trying to take photos. Jude’s sitting with his phone in front of his face, and Leia and Nadia aren’t too far behind. Leia spots Lin and jumps up and down excitedly, dress fluttering around her, and Nadia tries to get her to stop.   
  
There’s a dull ache in his chest, and he turns back around to Jill, “They’re over there,” and gestures with his shoulder. She jumps out of her seat and starts flagging them to their location, yelling over the crowd, and it just makes Lin chuckle as he taps the conversation window and clicks on Jude’s name. 

**_No +1?_ ** ****

Looking over his shoulder, he can see Jude jump out of the corner of his eye and fidget for a little before slinking into his seat. A few moments later, Lin’s phone vibrates.   
  
_no. it’s over. he’s going home after his graduation tomorrow._

 ** _Are you ok—_** and Lin deletes the message, staring at the blinking cursor and then figures ‘fuck it’ and finishes the message: **_Are you okay?_**

Jude texts back almost immediately:  
  
_i will be. thanks, haha._  

Clicking the phone closed, Lin turns to Jill, who is presently downing the remainder of her flask, and asks, “Did you know Svent was moving back home?” Pulling the container away from her lips, she wipes her face with the back of her graduation robe.   
  
“Really? Last I heard he was planning on heading one of the subsidiaries his family’s company has out here,” shrugging her shoulders, she tosses back the final bit of alcohol and screws the lid closed, “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Why?”  
  
“Just wondered,” Lin brushes it off and finishes the rest of his own flask, trying not to let Jill outdo him, and also trying to avoid the gaze of his advisor walking the aisle, trying to settle the students in their seats. He manages to finish it in time and tosses the empty flask under his seat. Rowen nods in his direction and continues on, and Lin can’t help but chuckle to himself.

The ceremonies begin with the traditional singing of the alma mater and the first of a thousand boring speeches, and Lin fiddles with his phone, feeling his body grow more and more heavy as the vodka hits him in small crashing waves. Jill’s definitely gone, and she struggles to stay upright in her seat. Sometimes she laughs inappropriately at something, but so do many of the other graduate students, their own intoxication visible on their flushed faces. 

Realizing he hadn’t replied to Gaius, Lin opens their chat window and sends:

 ** _Having fun?_**  
  
_Quite. That Last Speaker Was Fantastic. Are You?_  
  
Lin’s surprised that Gaius replies so fast, but figures everyone else is probably playing with their phones, too, so it’s not that shocking he’s busying himself with his mobile device. Chewing on the corner of his lip, his mind tells him it’s a bad idea, but the thought is too slow in his ever growing haze and he texts:

 ** _Not really, you know what would make it more fun?_**  

_What?  
_

**_Telling me what you’re going to do to me when we go home after this._ ** ****

There’s a long pause between the next message and Lin looks over his shoulder to see Gaius shifting in his chair, turning away from Milla on his right and closer to the stranger on his left. The alert pops up and Lin checks it.  
  
_Lin, This Is Your Graduation.  
  
**So what?  
  
** Absolutely Not._

**_I know what I’m going to do._ **

Part of Lin wants to take a peek at Gaius, but another part of him doesn’t, and just wants to imagine the blush across his cheeks as he tries and hide it from Milla and Musee’s watchful gazes, both sisters being far too perceptive for their own good. Lin tries to picture him tapping out a reply as discreetly as possible, shielding it against his chest, Leia and Nadia peering around his shoulder to tease him.

The phone vibrates in his hand and he looks down to check it, Gaius’ name appearing in the headline. Unlocking it, he stares at the message and a small smile creeps across his face.   
  
_You’re Not Discreet._

Laughing, he types a reply, **_I’m not trying to be._**

_Is That So?_

He stops sending another message when Jill elbows him in the side and tells him that she needs to run over to be with the rest of her graduating class and Lin nods, cheering when her name is announced, jumping when an air horn blasts across the lawn and Lin whips around to see Leia cheering excitedly, holding it in her hand as the rest of her companions stared at her, hands over their ears. Gaius looks especially indignant.

She was nothing if not exuberant.   
  
After what feels like an eternity, Lin shuffles up with the rest of the other Political Science students and makes his way to the stage. His heart is beating in his chest, probably partially from the liquor, but also because there was nothing more significant than receiving something he’d dedicated the last six years of his life to pursuing.  
  
It’s something that he’d not only dedicated his last six years to pursing, but something he cared about a lot—enough to make his top priority. In fact, he’d made it his top priority for so long, Lin had forgotten there were other things to life at all: meaningful relationships, friends, and even love. They had all been shelved as he threw himself into the culmination of his university schooling.   
  
But now, in the last six months of a six-year-commitment, he’d found all of that. Lin had finally relented and given in to things he’d deemed frivolous and unnecessary - but they had made him happy. He wouldn’t trade Leia’s chicken scratch on the side of his cup, or chastising Nadia for sneaking into bars underage, or Milla and Musee’s headstrong nature as they convinced him to try something outside of his comfort zone. He’d finally found his place, and in five days, it would all be over.

It’s all he thinks about as he mechanically accepts the fake diploma for the photographer to snap a photo as he waits in line to shake the Dean’s hand and accepts the end of his Ph.D program. It comes too soon, and Lin crosses the stage, air horn blasting through the lawn again and shields his eyes from the bright lights, bitterly laughing as he looked at his little audience, and his heart nearly sinks to the floor. Shoving his tassel on the other side of his hat, he makes his way back to his chair, plopping next to Jill.   
  
“Hope they remember to send this stupid thing to my new address,” he mutters and opens the empty diploma, looking at the “Congratulations!” notice that advised it would be sent in thirty or so days. Jill shrugs in reply.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine—you updated your profile on the school website, yeah?” She asks, and Lin nods. “You already signed the new lease, huh?”  
  
Lin snorts, “I’m leaving on Thursday, I would hope I did. Half my shit’s already making its way across the country. All that’s left is to leave.” He looks down at the leather casing and feels the embossed logo of his university in this city he’d spent all his life in, and knew that no matter where he went, nowhere else would ever feel like home.   
  
*  
  
Lin’s sobering up by the time he makes it back to Gaius’ penthouse, the both of them laughing and talking in excited tones. It’s probably close to four in the morning, and they’d been out all night celebrating with Jill and the rest of their friends. Sometimes Gaius makes an overly loud gesture to be quiet as to not wake the neighbors, but it only makes Lin laugh more.   
  
“I’m trying to shh, fuck,” Lin says as he trips over his own two feet, Gaius trying to unlock the front door as gracefully as possible, his suit jacket falling and slipping off his shoulders. Gaius’ tie is completely undone and his shirt buttons hang open as he pushes his black hair from his face, trying to decipher which key opens the house.   
  
Finally, Gaius manages to push open the door. The flush on his cheeks is gone by now, but his hair is still messy and wild around his face, the result of an evening of bar hopping and enjoying company with friends. Lin thinks he looks as lovely as he always does, smile twitching on his lips, rosy eyes alight with curiosity and playfulness.   
  
“What is it?” Gaius asks, tilting his head and Lin shakes his head, pulling off his coat and throwing it over the back of a bar chair. He lingers at the counter for a little, staring vacantly into the dark kitchen, a thank you letter Lin had mailed Gaius taped to the refrigerator, and thinks for a moment before turning around.   
  
“Can you drive me to the airport on Thursday? My flight leaves at seven, so uh, you should be able to make it to work,” Lin asks and rubs the back of his neck, looking up at Gaius through his curtain of black hair. For a second, Lin thinks Gaius furrows his brow together and then relaxes his facial muscles, nodding in affirmation.   
  
“I would be delighted,” he says. There’s something in his voice that’s not quite its usual tone, and it makes Lin feel a twinge of guilt in the bottom of his gut. He doesn’t want to question, but thinks he’ll regret it until the day he dies if he doesn’t, so he takes the plunge.  
  
Taking a sharp exhale, Lin asks, “Are you—are you okay?”  
  
It catches Gaius off guard—Lin can tell by the look of surprise that flashes so briefly across the other man’s face if Lin blinked he’s sure he would’ve missed it. With each passing moment his guilt only grows stronger and he chews on the corner of his lip, waiting for some kind of answer.   
  
“I—,” Gaius starts to say, and then stops, sitting down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. For the second time since they’d met, Lin had managed to render him absolutely speechless—the first was when he’d teased Gaius at brunch on their first date. Gaius had sputtered into his coffee and looked at Lin with the most hilariously indignant expression. Finally, his deep voice interrupts Lin’s thoughts, “Of course, why?”

“Just, you know that Thursday I’m,” pausing for a second, Lin bites the inside of his cheek as hard as he can to try to stop the emotion sinking in. To try and stop the realization that this was it, that yes, he would say goodbye to Gaius on Thursday and see him as much as he could before then, but tonight was their final goodbye. Finishing his previous thought he chokes out, “I’m leaving, and this—us—isn’t going to work two-thousand miles away.”

Gaius doesn’t respond immediately, just stands up and Lin feels his arms around his frame, warm and protective and everything Lin’s ever wanted. His fingers are running though Lin’s black hair and he breathes into the side of his face, “I know, Lin. I know,” leaving soft kisses on the side of his cheek.   
  
“And you, well, your life is here,” Lin mutters into Gaius’ chest, his words muffled by his guilt and Gaius’ pressed shirt, as he tries to reel in his sadness. After all, if he didn’t acknowledge it, it didn’t exist right? 

“It is,” Gaius murmurs and holds Lin tighter, “And you have the rest of your life ahead of you. Don’t hold back enjoying it.”  
  
_Don’t hold back?_ He thinks about yelling at Gaius, demanding to know what he meant by that, demanding to know if Gaius _knew_ that he’d only just let go and started enjoying life the moment they met. The moment their eyes met, the moment Gaius had laughed at Lin’s sarcasm, the moment they kissed in the car in front of his apartment building.

But instead he just pulls his head from where it’s buried in Gaius’ chest and meets his gaze for a few moments, eyes heavy and questioning and flutters his lashes closed, crashing their lips together because _goddammit_ if this was the end, he wanted to remember it as perfectly imperfect as their time together and wraps his fingers in Gaius’ hair, tugging and pulling and biting, trying so desperately to taste everything he possibly could.   
  
Gaius just draws Lin closer to his body and kisses rougher than hnad Lin expected, his own desires kicking in, and Lin loves it. Lin loves that Gaius knows him better than anyone else he’s ever been with and pulls apart only to breathe against Gaius’ mouth, “Take me upstairs,” and Gaius complies, pulling their tangle of limbs together up the stairs and onto the bed, shedding clothing haphazardly along the way.

In the morning, Lin thinks he’ll regret throwing his designer shirt over the railing onto the dining room table, but right now he’s pressed underneath Gaius with the other man leaning over his frame, holding on to Lin’s pale shoulders with both hands. Still, they haven’t stopped pressing their mouths together in a heated fluster of emotion and a sinking feeling despair, and as much as Lin wanted Gaius to take him right here and now, he can’t help but want _this moment_ to last forever.

Because if he stopped kissing Gaius, there’s no telling what would happen. Maybe Gaius would move on and find someone else that made him happy. Maybe Lin would get absorbed in his new lifestyle and forget all the moments they’d shared together. Maybe neither of them would remember their naked tangle of bodies five years from now and look back with a hazy memory, recalling only slightly what they once were.

So Lin just wraps his arms around Gaius’ neck and pulls him close, pressing their naked chests together, and Gaius moves to nip at his neck, biting harder and sinking his teeth deeper, truly marking something that Gaius believed, no, something he _knew_ was his, and if Lin had it his way, would be Gaius’ forever.   
  
“It’s going to go away by the time I leave,” Lin says into the darkness of the bedroom, staring up at the ceiling like he had done so many times before and scrapes his nails up the center of Gaius’ toned back, only stopping to dig his fingers deeper into his shoulders.   
  
“But you and I have the memory forever, hm?” Gaius rumbles against Lin’s neck and it just makes Lin moan, aroused not by the pain or the pleasure, but by the idea that there’s a forever to Gaius, and the word belongs to Lin.   
  
Gaius moves to sit up between Lin, his legs propped up on Gaius’ thighs and Lin sits up a little to look at the other man, just enough light in the room to appreciate his naked figure. The corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile as he watches Gaius pant, his lips red and swollen and delicious-looking, like they were meant for Lin and no one else.   
  
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, too,” Lin says, and his voice hitches in his throat, words escaping before he can catch himself, settling into the darkness. Gaius looks surprised, maybe, Lin can’t quite tell in the limited lighting, and just waits for an answer.   
  
But Gaius doesn’t reply. He doesn’t comment with his words, no, he runs his strong hands up Lin’s thighs and leans over, wrapping his mouth around Lin’s cock, running his tongue painfully up and down. He doesn’t break eye contact with Lin, still sitting up on his elbows and it just makes Lin’s heart beat faster, his mind spinning with pleasure and internal cries of _I love you_. But even if he wanted to speak his mind, he knows he can’t. 

He can’t because Gaius knows. He can’t because the fire and the passion behind Gaius’ rosy eyes is intense and burning like he’d never seen it before as he takes more of Lin in his mouth, sliding him further down his throat, and it just made Lin love him more.

Sitting up, Lin tries to stifle his moans by chewing on his lower lip and presses the back of Gaius’ head further down on him. Gaius’ only response is to massage his tongue along Lin’s cock, now fully at the base as Lin’s completely inside of him, and Lin can’t stop himself from emitting noises of desperation, grabbing a fistful of Gaius’ hair, jerking tightly.  
  
“Fucking hell,” he breathes and nearly doubles over in pleasure when Gaius pulls back tracing patterns along the head of his cock, a far cry from the intensity only a few moments ago. But that’s what Lin loves about Gaius: powerful and tender all in the same breath of air. “Don’t stop, please I’m—“  
  
“Is that what you want?” Gaius asks, voice rumbling and Lin just nods senselessly, his head fogged with love and lust and the despondency that all good things must come to an end.   
  
Lin sharply inhales when Gaius goes down on him again, somehow deeper than before and twists his fingers in the other man’s black hair, soft and thick and full of the deep notes of spice and tarragon and sandalwood and a scent that Lin came to knew as so uniquely Gaius. He hesitates for only a second before replying, “All I want is you,” but it’s so quiet, Lin wonders if Gaius even heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much! 21/25 almost there!!


	22. Different View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaa I can't believe we're here! The last aruju before the finale ;n; 
> 
> So 23, 24, and the epilogue 25 need to be posted at once tbh. I'll probably have a small delay while I finish up all three and then post them at once.

Jude’s sitting in his living room, music softly streaming in from the speakers on his laptop as he stares at the bag marked “to burn” and chews on the corner of his lip, wondering what he should do about it. He could burn it, in fact. Or he could return it, but he doesn’t know if it’s a wise idea to see Alvin again after he’d walked out on him a few weeks ago.

Oddly enough, Alvin had been eerily silent. He hadn’t so much as even bothered texting Jude since he left the restaurant. Jude had figured that he’d get texts from Alvin that didn’t acknowledge the situation, pretending as if nothing happened, asking if Jude wanted to come over coupled with some flirty emoji face, but nothing came. Not even a ‘hello’ when he came in to class the following Tuesday. Alvin hadn’t so much as acknowledged Jude’s presence and it was driving him crazy.

Drifting back to the thought of returning the contents of the bag, Jude flops against the back cushions of the couch and wrings his hands, trying to talk himself out of the thought. He knew Alvin hadn’t left yet. He’d mentioned a few weeks ago that his parents were flying in Saturday for his graduation on Sunday and they’d be leaving on Wednesday, but his flight wasn’t until Thursday. Presently, it’s only Tuesday and Jude wonders why he’s obsessing over little details and dates. Maybe it was his way of convincing himself that it’s not too late. 

 _But it is too late_ , his mind says, and Jude shifts to look at his phone sitting by his laptop and wonders whether or not he should text Alvin. Pulling himself up, he checks the time and figures it’s only 9pm. Jude hangs the phone in his hand and rests his elbows on his knees, bouncing one leg up and down restlessly, he finally tells himself ‘fuck it’ and clicks his phone open, staring at Alvin’s text messaging screen.  
  
The last message was sent ages ago and it might be awkward, but such a large part  of Jude just wants to see Alvin again. Even if it’s just to return his things. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. Even if it’s just to see him push his bangs out of his face one more time. Even if it’s just to say a proper good-bye. With a heavy sigh, Jude types:  
  
**_are you home?_**

He tosses the phone next to him and keeps bouncing his leg, impatiently waiting for a reply. Jude starts to think he should’ve just gone over there, but showing up unannounced didn’t really sound like a wise idea, either. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait very long and his phone dings.

_Yeah why?_

**_i have some things of yours over here still._ **

_Yeah whatever… thats fine_

Jude isn’t really sure how to take Alvin’s reply, and wonders if he made a mistake texting him in the first place. But Alvin could’ve told him to keep it, throw it away, forget about it and he’d buy new copies of his items. But he didn’t. He told Jude to come over. Not politely, no, but he still acknowledged Jude after weeks of the cold shoulder.  
  
And yet, it still didn’t make Jude feel very good. But as Arst Outway had once said to him, he’d made his bed and now he had to lie in it, so Jude stands up, grabs his phone, wallet, keys, and ‘to burn’ bag and closes his dorm room door softly behind him, making his way to Alvin’s.  
  
*  
  
The receptionist still remembers him, but Jude had finally managed to sneak the access code out of Alvin one day anyway. They’d been lying in bed together, sweat-slicked and laughing about absolutely nothing, and Alvin told him how to bypass the buzzer, joking that it would want to make Jude come over more often. He wasn’t wrong.  
  
Jude shifts the bag to his left arm and rides the elevator up, his stomach doing flips as he swallows the lump in his throat. For as intimate as they’d been in the past, Jude suddenly didn’t know what to say to Alvin, and worries about making conversation. Trying to think of things he could say to the other man, he doesn't realize that he’s standing at Alvin’s front door. Muscle memory is a fascinating thing indeed. 

Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Jude finally brings up his hand to knock when the door swings wide and Balan’s standing in the entrance, hand on his hip, tossing his dark blond hair from his eyes. They’re almost the same hue and shape as Alvin’s, and Jude wonders how he missed it before—they clearly look related in some capacity, what with the structure of their— _shit_ his boss is in front of him.  
  
“Uh,” Jude starts, and Balan just raises an eyebrow, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He pushes them up with one finger, hands decorated with rings of varying shapes and sizes and waits for Jude to continue. Finally Jude manages to squeak out, “Is Alvin here? I um—have to return this,” and gestures to the bag.  
  
Balan sighs and signals to come inside, “I didn’t know you were dropping by, Jude,” he says and settles on the sofa, crossing his legs. There’s boxes all over the apartment, stacked high with various labels on the sides, and nearly everything looked as if it had already been packed, entertainment center, bookshelves, and counters devoid of any sign anyone had lived there.  
  
“Did he not tell you?” Jude asks and sets the bag on the coffee table, sitting on the arm of the lounge chair. He feels awkward—not that talking to Balan is difficult, really, but rather because the apartment he’d become so familiar with now felt unfamiliar and foreign. Like he didn’t belong, and it made Jude’s heart ache in his chest.  
  
Balan shakes his head, “No, just said he was going to shower and change and tasked me with finishing packing,” Balan trails off and kicks the box closest to him with the toe of his Converse, reading the label on the outside, “‘decorations and knick-knacks’ like the gentleman he is.” Nodding toward the bag, he adds: “What are you returning?”  
  
“Oh um,” Jude says and stands up to peer in the bag, starting to remove the contents. “Blu-rays, books, a pair of gloves he let me borrow once, uh let’s see,” and Jude feels around the rest of the contents, stopping when he touches something fuzzy and soft. Frowning, he pulls it out and holds a small brown reindeer tail in his hand, silver clip shining on the end.  
  
Before Jude can toss it back in the bottom, Balan comments, “Oh I see, _personal_ items,” and chuckles behind his hand. Jude flushes and tries to make an excuse for himself, but another voice cuts him off.  
  
“Last I checked there was a mostly full bottle of scotch in there, too,” Alvin laughs, coming down the winding staircase in a pair of jeans, towel wrapped around his neck. He’s not wearing a shirt and Jude just stares helplessly as the water droplets trail from the end of his damp hair over his collarbone and chest down to his abdomen, down to his—and Jude snaps his head up.  
  
It’s not really _indecent_ for men to walk around topless, but maybe not _advised_ in front of your cousin and—well, Jude didn’t really know what they had been, but they had been something, and wandering down the stairs like that probably wasn’t one of Alvin’s smartest moves.  
  
Or maybe the joke’s on Jude and it’s a brilliant move and as Jude feels cheeks heat up he barely registers Alvin asked him a question a few moments ago, “Oh um, I—I drank that. Sorry.” Jude rubs the back of his neck and fidgets with some of his own hair, thinking it was starting to get a little long, trying desperately to fill his mind with something other than the way Alvin stood behind the couch, muscular arms leaning against the back of the seat.

But he caves and looks up, meeting Alvin’s gaze, heart thudding in his chest, drum beating in his ears. Alvin doesn’t look mad, really; his eyes are clouded with something deep and unfamiliar and Jude loves it and hates it at the same time. He can’t bring himself to break his eyes away and just loses himself in his own emotions, confused and nebulous, like the entire time he’d spent with Alvin.  
  
Taking the lapse in conversation, Balan stands up and stretches, “Well, as much as I’d like to stay here and just watch because let’s face it, real life drama is _always_ better than fiction, I do have plans.”  
  
Alvin turns to look at his cousin, crossing his arms over his chest, and Jude doesn’t even bother trying to look away, “What are you doing? It’s past nine on a Tuesday—“  
  
“Ah, ah,” Balan chastises, clicking his tongue and a there’s a momentary flash of metal. Jude didn’t remember Balan having his tongue pierced, but remembers he didn’t even realize Balan and Alvin were related in the first place. Balan wags a finger in Alvin’s direction, “Today’s not the day for details about my personal life—I think you already have enough to handle.” Tossing the coat over his arm, he opens the door and turns around to add before he departs, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” slamming the door behind him.  
  
“He’s an oddball,” Alvin comments, and Jude turns to look at him again. He has his hands shoved in his jean’s pockets. 

“Yeah,” Jude agrees and goes back to fidgeting with his hair, racking his brain for something to say, “So you’re really leaving, huh?” It wasn’t the best question—obviously Alvin was leaving, the room is barren and full of cardboard but there’s still a part of Jude that wants Alvin to lie to him.  
  
“Movers come tomorrow, the Audi’s already on its way back home,” running a hand through his hair, he forces a smile and sways back and forth, looking up through his lashes, “I meant it when I said I’d miss you.”  
  
“I know,” Jude says without a second thought, and his heart skips a beat in his chest. If he were being honest, he’s not really thinking clearly or rationally and before Jude can try to convince himself it isn’t a good idea he asks, “Do you think we ever had a chance?”  
  
Alvin tugs on the ends of the towel around his neck with either hand and looks up at the ceiling, exhaling loudly, “Maybe, but you wouldn’t want a guy like me anyway, hm? You could do better,” and gives a bitter laugh underneath his breath. Jude isn’t really sure what that means and shakes his head.  
  
“I—no, it doesn’t matter. All I wanted was you,” he replies, honest and frank, figuring if this is the last time they’d see each other, he might as well say what’s on his mind. It catches Alvin off guard and a look of surprise flashes across his features, but he doesn’t say anything in reply. Just stands there as stupidly handsome as he was the first day they met.  
  
“Yeah well,” Alvin starts and drops his arms at his sides dramatically, “It’s too late for that, kid.”

 _It’s not too late_ , Jude says in his mind, trying to lie to himself, trying to convince him that there’s something he could say to make Alvin stay, but he knows his thoughts are nothing more than desperate attempts to calm his anxiety.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Jude breathes, his final wall of defense shattering as he stands helpless to his own emotions and fidgets with the bottom of his sweater. He doesn’t bother reading Alvin’s face for a reaction, just stares past him at the sparkling city skyline in his living room window.  
  
“Hey,” Alvin laughs, low and smooth and it makes the hair on the back of Jude’s neck stand up, “You’re here now—and I have one night left before the movers come to take the bed.” He walks, no, _saunters_ over to Jude, tossing the towel on the couch and wraps his arms around Jude’s neck leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.  
  
Jude would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about the prospect and thinks about their time together like a tacky montage in a bad romantic comedy. He thinks about the second time he came over to get his tail to the most recent. He thinks about the times spent in cafes doing homework in total silence, enjoying the smell of ground coffee and each other’s company, to the times spent in a naked tangle of limbs, fueled by lust and their insatiable desire for one another.

Jude feels his cheeks grow warm as he directs his attention back to Alvin, and he knows it’s dangerous to stay any longer. Looking up at the other man he says, “I should go.”  
  
“If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you,” Alvin whispers, his brown eyes catching the dim lighting at the right angle and Jude sort of feels like he’s made of putty, but stays firm in his decision. It’s for the best.  
  
“Yeah, I,” Jude swallows then leans up on his tiptoes to press their lips together, holding Alvin’s cheeks tightly in his sweaty palms, clammy with his own fear of losing someone he’s started to fall in love with. Alvin just responds by pulling him close to his body and runs his hands up and down Jude’s back, tongue forcing its way into Jude’s mouth, and Jude moans into him.

Jude’s own selfish desires tell him to never let go, and they stay pressed together for some time in a haze of desperation and longing, but he has just enough sense to stop at the right moment, breaking their lips apart. “Thank you for everything,” he breathes against Alvin.

“I—you’re welcome,” Alvin murmurs and gives a peck on the end of Jude’s nose.  
  
“Goodbye then?” Jude offers weakly, and takes a step backward to distance himself from his precarious situation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alvin replies, flicking his bangs from his eyes, “See you, Jude.”  
  
*  
  
Jude’s not really okay the next day, but he’s been trying his hardest to keep it together. There’s really nothing more he can do, so he just works absentmindedly and drowns himself in the task list Milla left for him. Well, she left it for the team really, but it’s presently nearly 9PM on a Wednesday and every one else had gone home. Even Ivar, who’d tried to keep up with Jude when the clock ticked past six, had finally given up when it hit seven, and Jude hadn’t budged from his computer screen.  
  
It’s easier to forget your feelings when you couldn’t think, right? At least, it’s the lie that Jude tells himself as he works on altering data on a predictive model graph, copying the results to the spreadsheet. He’s tired, both from staring at a monitor since eight in the morning and from the lack of sleep he got last night, his thoughts waking him up the moment his head hit the pillow.  
  
Rubbing the back of his eyes with his wrist, Jude checks the time on his phone and realizes that he should really have gone home ages ago. Payroll wasn’t going to be too happy with his overtime. Closing the programs, he clocks out and shuts off the lights, locking the laboratory behind him, dragging his feet the entire time.

He makes his way through the winding passages of the research wing on the Taurus campus—a far cry from the offices that inhabited most of the rest of the company—and vaguely wonders if there’s anyone else even left in the building. Jude doesn’t really worry about it and yawns, pressing the button for the main lobby, adjusting his backpack.  
  
Tugging his phone from his back pocket, Jude scrolls through his Facebook, wondering why he still had the damn thing—it was mostly useless. But it had its benefits. Most notably due to the fact that Arst had accepted his friend request and Jude enjoyed seeing his social media illiterate antics.  
  
Today it was Arst accidentally updating his status with a Google search then commenting below that he “Meant To Search For That” and asking “How Do I Delete This.” Jude chuckles under his breath and checks the timestamp, posted only a few minutes ago and frowns at the location, recognizing it as Taurus campus.  
  
But he doesn’t really think anything of it and makes for the front doors from muscle memory, nose still buried in his phone and runs right into a sofa, stubbing his toe at just the right angle. Cursing loudly and bouncing on one foot, Jude tries to shake it off and a voice behind him clears their throat.  
  
“It would be prudent to watch where you’re going,” and Jude immediately places it to Arst Outway. Hopping around to face the executive, Jude sets his leg back on the ground and offers a half-smile.    
  
“Good evening, uh sir,” Jude manages to squeak out. Arst is by the other set of elevators, arms crossed over his broad chest and looking wholly unamused with the situation. He walks toward the lobby, couches and chairs arranged for visitors or clients or interviewees waiting to get directed toward the appropriate office are located. Standing in front of Jude, he shakes his head.  
  
“And what are you doing here?” He asks, his voice low and maybe just a little bit dangerous, but Jude attributed that to his natural authority.  
  
“Me?”  
  
Arst makes a large sweeping gesture to the empty lobby, “I don’t see anybody else present, do you?”

“No, sir. I was just, um, Milla asked me to complete—“ Jude tried to come up with an excuse but everything sounded awful and he really isn’t very good at lying, he realizes. Looking down at his phone, Jude sees Alvin’s name flash across his Facebook feed and he tries to force down the lump building in his throat. “I wanted to be here,” he mutters, trying to avoid looking at Arst. “It’s easier to, you know, forget.”

Jude expects Arst to chastise him, but surprisingly he just laughs and says, “You know I was doing the same thing.” Deciding to look up, Jude furrows his brow. On any other day, he’d feel small and insignificant next to someone who wields such a presence, but Arst is anything but threatening, his shoulders slumped, body language unfamiliar. Finally, Arst continues, “Sit down.” Jude knows better than to not listen, so he just plops into the closest armchair, Arst settling across from him on the couch, crossing his legs.  
  
“You were?”  
  
Nodding his head, Arst forces a smile, “Lin leaves tomorrow and I’m—“ he stops for a moment, leaning back, “Well, I’ll be here. It’s truly miserable. I want him so badly to stay, but it’s—“  
  
“Selfish and unreasonable?” Jude offers, not because he thought that Arst was being selfish and unreasonable, no, but because it’s how he felt yesterday standing in Alvin’s empty apartment grasping at straws just to save himself from drowning in his own sorrow. Arst seems a little surprised by Jude’s brazen answer, but nods all the same.  
  
“I can’t expect him to stay, and I desire for his success above all else. Nothing but his own happiness matters to me,” Arst replies, lacing his gloved fingers together, setting them in his lap. Jude knows he’s never seen Arst this way before, but strangely, it doesn’t surprise him. He’d had enough of an insight into their relationship to know how much they meant to one another.  
  
But it did feel strange providing advice to a man fourteen years his senior. “You made the selfless choice.” Shaking his head Jude adds: “I don’t know if I could be as strong as you.”  
  
Snorting, Arst gives a wry smile and replies, “I put on a good face, but thank you—for the kind comment, for listening.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” After a few moments in silence, Jude checks his phone and realizes it’s close to ten and he has to take the subway back to campus. His parents were coming tomorrow to start helping him pack his dorm room and move him into his rented apartment with Leia. He’d accepted a position to remain an intern with Taurus through the summer and wouldn’t be returning home. “Shit—oh fuck sorry, wait,” he stammers then shakes his head, “I need to head out soon. Public transit at night and all.”  
  
Jude stands up and collects his backpack and various papers that had fallen out of the broken pouch, zipper busted a few weeks ago. Arst clears his throat and asks, “Do you um, want a ride home? I would feel personally responsible if anything happened.”  
  
Looking back at the other man with wide eyes he’s about to decline but the look behind Arst’s rosy eyes tells him the man won’t accept ‘no’ as an answer. So instead Jude agrees. “Thank you—I appreciate it.”  
  
“It’s the least I can do for making you listen to my nonsense.”  
  
Chuckling, Jude follows Arst out to the parking structure and looks at his phone again still open to his Facebook application. Scrolling to the top, he sees a photo Alvin posted only minutes ago of his empty apartment with the caption “I’ll see you all on the other side” and Jude’s stomach sinks.  
  
It’s really too late, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you!


	23. Chase the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Gaiwin! Thanks for bearing with me! It was hell doing three at once loooord.

Lin drags his suitcase behind him, bundled into his jacket. It’s not especially cold outside in the middle of May, but wearing it seemed easier than trying to stuff it in a suitcase or a box. At least, that’s what Gaius had advised Lin to do, and though he had fought the other man in the moment, he was, as usual and unfortunately, correct.   
  
Leaving the city behind him isn’t as difficult as he’d imagined. He’d said his good-byes, had several (unplanned) going away parities, accompanied Jill on the most ridiculous ‘friendship’ tour, and thanked his professors for their work on his dissertation. Saying good-bye had been easier than expected, but perhaps Lin’s just lying to himself.   
  
Sighing, he looks down at the ticket in his hand and then up at the gates and eventually finds the correct one, settling down in his seat with his Americano and book, waiting to board. He’d thought about just reading on his iPad, but he’d borrowed the book from Gaius, and the other man preferred reading physical copies instead of digital. It’s a little cumbersome, but the inside of the pages smell strong and spiced, like geranium and sandalwood—like Gaius—no, like home.   
  
Flushing at the thought, Lin tries to focus on the text, but he can’t keep his vision straight, his mind drifting to the other man. Gaius had wanted him to read the book, but Lin had insisted that he couldn’t borrow something when he was leaving and tried to shove it back on the shelf. Gaius hadn’t taken no for an answer.   
  
“Lin, you’re moving, not cutting me out,” he had said, long black bangs hiding his rosy eyes, and pressed the hardback further into Lin’s hand. “Read it and just send it back. Or keep it.”  
  
Lin just mumbled a ‘thanks’ and stuffed it in his bag, tossing it over his shoulder, thinking he might leave it on the coffee table, But now, he’s glad he didn’t and looks down at the pages, words blending together like his muddled thoughts. Saying good-bye to Gaius hadn’t been easy on Lin’s emotions, but it hadn’t really been hard either, what with Gaius constantly validating his choices and feelings, letting him know he made the right decision.   
  
Somehow, at the same time Lin felt both proud and saddened, but reminds himself that this is _his_ decision and he needs to stick by it, no matter what, so he just focuses on the chapter, waiting to board his flight. Waiting for his final good-bye to the city that never sleeps, high above the clouds.   
  
“Well, well,” a voice above him says and Lin jumps, looking up to stare up at Alvin’s grinning face, his arms crossed over his broad chest, expensive leather duffle bag slung over one shoulder, “Isn’t this nice?”  
  
“What are you doing here Svent?” Lin asks, narrowing his eyes, and Alvin flops into the seat across from him, stretching his long legs out. For a second he’s confused, and then he remembers that Alvin’s going back to his hometown—or city, rather, and is reminded that he’s not only moving but moving with _Alvin,_ of all people. Clearly he had no luck.   
  
Waving his boarding pass, Alvin replies, “Same thing you are. I’m certainly not here for fun, shit.” Lin concedes that it was a bad question and studies Alvin for a few moments. He doesn’t look like his usual self—or at least the self that Lin had known when he was with Jill, with a beard across his chin, scarf relaxed around his collar, loud colors instead of muted tones. Jill had preferred the opposite, and Lin couldn’t help but suppress a laugh.   
  
“You’ve changed,” Lin says and closes his book, setting it on his lap. It surprises Alvin, and the other man turns his brown eyes away, focusing on the floor instead. After a couple of minutes, Alvin looks up, his hair framing his face, styled longer than Lin remembered it being a year ago.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Alvin comments, “Yeah? Well, I—I like this look better. More me.” He flashes Lin a smirk and Lin rolls his eyes before Alvin adds, “What, you into it?”  
  
“I’m going to ignore that.”  
  
“Suit yourself,” Alvin shrugs and rests one foot on his knee, bouncing it up and down, “But you’re going to a brand new city and the only person you know is me.” He tosses Lin a wink and Lin thinks that throwing the book at his face wouldn’t be a half bad idea right now, but he refrains. Instead he just grimaces and looks down at the cover, tracing the words with his fingernail.   
  
“I am,” he admits, and doesn’t offer anything further to their conversation. Alvin shrugs and pulls his phone from a side-pouch on his leather bag and scrolls through it aimlessly as Lin watches from the corner of his eye. When it’s clear that his companion isn’t going to say anything, Lin goes back to reading his book, sliding further down in his chair, holding the book up parallel to his face.   
  
Without warning, an envelope slides out and flutters softly, falling on Lin’s chest. Furrowing his brow, he sits up completely and picks it up, feeling the weighty, thick paper between his fingers. Turning it over, his heart skips a beat when he sees his name on the front of the envelope in Gaius’ handwriting, and a small note in the corner not to open it until the plane landed.

“What’s that?” Alvin asks, looking up from his bright screen, nodding in the direction of the envelope. Lin looks it over again, turning it over a few times in his hands.   
  
“I don’t know—it fell out of the book. Gaius must’ve left it for me to find.”  
  
“Open it.”  
  
Lin glares at him and straightens in his seat, “It _says_ not to open it until I’ve arrived at my destination,” he snaps, and it makes Alvin roll his eyes. If he were being honest with himself, he’s curious beyond belief as to what’s written inside - the envelope itself rather heavy, far beyond any normal sheet of paper, but he can’t let Alvin see him this way. So instead, Lin just slides it back into the book and closes the cover. “I know how to listen.”  
  
Snorting, Alvin looks Lin directly in the eyes and raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over chest indignantly, “Do you?”  
  
Something about his words rattle Lin a little, and it might be because Alvin’s still making eye contact with him, but more than likely it’s because Alvin—Alvin, the most entitled, clueless asshole he’s ever met can see straight through the façade he’d worked so hard to build up the last few weeks. His question was so innocuous, but it still reminds Lin that when it comes to his own feelings, he tends to ignore them as long as possible.   
  
“Oh, what do you know,” Lin grumbles and sinks back down into his seat. The woman over the PA system starts to call disabled passengers and families with small children to the front gate for their flight, departing in only thirty minutes. Lin looks down at his ticket and remembers he booked first class so it wouldn’t be too much longer before he was sealed away on the plane, up, up and away from his life. Away from everyone he’d come to care about, grown to be friends with, grown to love.   
  
Alvin shrugs, “I know that I’m shit at listening, too,” and sits up, resting his elbows on his knees, laughing under his breath. Shaking some of his hair from his face he adds, “If I’d just listened to that little voice telling me not to be such a goddamn asshole, I could’ve had something.”

Lin looks at him with wide eyes and then immediately averts his attention to the steward ushering people through the ropes and onto the plane and Alvin’s words hit just a little too close to home. If he’d just listened to the fleeting sadness that washed over him every time he thought about leaving, he might’ve made different choices. But he didn’t. He didn’t because his pride wouldn’t let him, and now he’s having a conversation in an airport with a man he doesn’t even like, going to a city he doesn’t know.   
  
Finally he manages to reply, “Yeah, me too.” Alvin chuckles and leans back in his seat and Lin looks at book in his hands, letter poking out the top of the pages. 

“What are we doing, Lin?” Alvin stands up, stretching his arms over his head. Lin frowns and stares up at him. He didn’t hear the woman on the PA system indicate that it’s time for first class to board—and he knew Alvin would never opt for coach.

“We’re about to get on a plane.”  
  
“No, I mean what are we doing?” Alvin asks, gesturing to the cityscape behind him and Lin finally registers what he means, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Alvin says, “Our whole lives are here. I came here because nothing felt right, and now? Now I found somewhere I belong and I’m trying to lie to myself that it’s better if I go.”  
  
Not really sure how to reply, Lin shifts his gaze between Alvin, the city, and the book in his hands, hardback cover leather and worn and suddenly this doesn’t feel right, either. He could get on board, drink shitty wine on the plane, fly across the country, and open the letter written by the only person he’s ever loved and pretend like everything’s fine. That’s what Gaius wanted for him, after all.

“If that’s how you feel, then go,” Lin whispers and doesn’t bother making eye contact.   
  
“What and just,” Alvin puts his hand to his chin, feeling that god awful beard on his face, and continues, “And just run out of here like I’m in a goddamn romantic drama? I’m not like you, Lin. I didn’t have a fairytale romance. I didn’t have a picture perfect—whatever.” Mumbling the rest of his words, Alvin looks out the window at the skyline, twinkling softly in the morning light.   
  
Snorting Lin asks, “Is that what you think? You think that, what, Gaius just came in armor gleaming and we rode off into the sunset? That’s not how relationships work. It was more than ‘picture perfect’ Svent, it was real. And reality doesn’t always work out.”  
  
Shifting his weight in his chair, Alvin makes a slight nod of agreement, “Yeah, well, ain’t that the truth. Fuck, I can’t even imagine what that kid would say if I just showed up after everything I did.”  
  
“Hopefully punch you—you probably deserve it.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Alvin laughs to himself, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat. “I’d let him, too.” He stops for a moment to check his text messages and then nods in Lin’s direction. “What about you? What would Arst do?”  
  
And there it is. There’s the antithesis to his actions, and Lin mulls it over for a little, Alvin’s excessive fidgeting breaking his thought. Staring up at him, the other man is tapping the palm of his hand against his other hand, curled into a fist.

Chewing on his lip, Lin replies, “I want to say he’d be disappointed in me. Disappointed that I rejected such a good offer. Disappointed that I’m selling myself short to be with him, but he,” Lin shakes his head, “he wouldn’t say that. He’d smile, and his nose would crinkle—like it always does when he’s really happy. And I—“ swallowing the lump in his throat, he manages to continue, “I’d be happy too.”

Folding his arms across his chest Alvin repeats his earlier question, “What are we doing?”

“Making mistakes—not listening, you know that sort of thing,” Lin replies and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, running his fingers through his hair. Gaius loves his hair. Gaius loves the way it slips through his fingers. Gaius loves everything about him and Lin wouldn’t trade Gaius for anything.

So why was he still sitting in the airport terminal?

Finally Alvin glances at Lin and says, “I’ll see you later, Lin,” and stands up, turning on his heel, power walking past the gates and down the hall.

Lin turns around and kneels on his chair, calling after him, “Where are you going all of a sudden?”  
  
“Home,” is all Alvin replies with and gives a wink and a wave over his shoulder. Blinking, Lin looks at his suitcase and the plane, and the voice in his head says _‘Stay here, Gaius is proud of you. You’ve worked hard for this. Don’t let them down’_ But Gaius’ book is still in his hands, warm and familiar, and for the first time, Lin does something completely irrational and brazen and decides to listen to his heart, not his head. He can’t leave. He can’t leave everything he loves behind.

Hesitating only for a moment, Lin gathers his things as quickly as he’s able and sprints after Alvin, his annoyingly long legs making him faster than Lin. Finally able to spot the man’s broad shoulders through the crowd of people, he weaves in between a family and catches up to Alvin, trying his hardest to match his pace, “Not without me.”  
  
Alvin laughs, and slows down a tad, letting Lin fall into step with him. They manage to get out of the labyrinth of the airport, and head to the taxi stand. Lin hasn’t been thinking the entire time, just wordlessly following, heart racing in his chest. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but something about the way Alvin had said ‘home’ sparked something inside of him. He’d been listening to everyone around him, but never stopped once to consider what he truly wanted.   
  
As soon as the next taxi arrives, the driver opens the back door and loads Lin’s suitcase in the trunk. He shoves past Alvin and slides in, disgruntled when Alvin climbs in next to him. 

“What are you doing?” He hisses under his breath and Alvin wraps an arm around Lin’s shoulders and Lin freezes in place, glaring at him from underneath his bangs. “Svent, I swear to God—“  
  
“Relax,” he says, tone smooth and even and gestures to the driver, “Tell him where you’re going, we’ll drop you off first.  
  
Lin pauses for a second and pulls his phone from his bag, looking up Taurus’ address. He hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s doing, but figures if he’s going to ditch the plane and his future to stay here, the least he can do is inform Gaius. So Lin figures he’ll start there.

*  
  
The taxi pulls up to the Taurus campus, skyscrapers towering above him and Lin looks out the window, swallowing the lump in his throat. Now isn’t the time to get cold feet, and he helplessly looks at Alvin, who merely shrugs, “Go get ‘em,” turning back to his phone screen.   
  
Climbing out of the back of the car, Lin grips the suitcase in his hand and turns around before departing, door still hanging open and says, “Hey—Svent.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Thank you,” Lin manages to say over his stomach flipping and turning and pulling in every direction imaginable. He thinks about looking back to see Alvin’s reaction, but realizes he doesn’t care and hastily makes his way into the lobby, ignoring the receptionist who tries to stop him from catching one of the glass doors behind an employee as he makes his way up to the Executive Suite.   
  
The man in the elevator with him is giving him strange looks, considering he’s standing there with his suitcase in an overstuffed jacket in May, but Lin doesn’t care because he can’t think about anything else but Gaius. Will he be disappointed? Will he be delighted? Downright confused? And the more Lin thinks about it the more nervous and _excited_ he is to tell him that he can’t leave. He can’t pack up and walk away because he’d found all he ever wanted and he feels stupid for realizing it took this long to realize. 

The doors slide open and Lin rushes out, weaving past cubicles to the Executive Suite sealed off with several rows of glass paneling and security locks. He can see Musee sitting behind her desk at the front and bangs on the door, not caring that the employees around him are giving him puzzled and dirty looks as he shouts for her to let him.   
  
Looking up from her computer screen, she presses a button and her saccharine voice comes over the intercom, _“It’s open, Lin.”  
_

Lin’s breathless from his racing heartbeat and his fury to get here as quickly as humanely possible, and asks, “Where’s Gaius?”  
  
“In the room down the hall and to the left but—“ and Lin is already running toward the door in question, suitcase still in tow, jacket falling off his shoulders, thinking that his is the most insane thing he’s ever done in his entire life, but he can’t give a flying fuck right now. He’s so close to all he’s ever wanted, and nothing’s going to stop him.   
  
Without a second thought, Lin flings open the door and blurts, “Gaius I can’t leave. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but if I get on that goddamn plane, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life,” and stops when he’s face to face not only with Gaius, but a room full of people as well, seated around a long oval table.  They’re dressed nice, all suits and pressed skirts, air of importance and refinement and the color drains from Lin’s face. This isn’t how he’d rehearsed it in the taxi ride to the campus. 

“—he’s in a board meeting,” Musee says behind Lin, finally catching up to him and puts her hand on her hip, laughing to herself, “Well, it seems you’ve already discovered that. Never mind then.”  
  
Gaius looks shocked for a brief second, then clears his throat and gestures to Lin with one gloved hand, “Lin, welcome to the board meeting.” Making a large sweep to the rest of the room he continues, “Board members, this is Dr. Long Dau. Dr. Long Dau, this is,” and Gaius starts to go through the people sitting around the table. “Mr. Maxwell.”

 _So that’s how Milla and Musee wiggled their way in._ Lin thinks and chews the corner of his lip.  
  
“Dr. Ilbert—though you’ve already been acquainted.” 

Lin felt like Gaius _could’ve_ mentioned that sooner. Rowen shoots him a wry smile, and Lin stops himself from rolling his eyes.   
  
“Ms. Marcia, Mr. Fenn, Mr. Sharil and his sister Ms. Sharil.”  
  
A blonde girl waves at him, green eyes smiling along with her face, pretty features set into a wide grin. Lin waves back and tries to force a smile, not wanting to look too severe.   
  
“And finally Vice President Kitarl, who I do believe you’ve met.”  
  
Lin gives a small greeting to Ortega Kitarl, his impressive figure stuffed into a high-backed leather office chair, hands together in front of him on the thick wooden table. Managing to find his voice he says, “Good morning,” and stands uncomfortable in the doorway, wanting to just bolt as fast as he entered the board room, but his legs are cemented firmly in place. Standing with one hand on his suitcase he finally remarks, “I should—I should go.”  
  
“Lin—,” Gaius starts to say and reaches a hand out, dropping it at his side. Lin doesn’t bother replying and grips his suitcase tightly, turning on his heel and letting the door to the boardroom swing shut behind him. Pushing past Musee, she’s about to protest, but remains silent instead and Lin’s grateful she doesn’t have a smart remark up her sleeve. 

His eyes are downcast as he drags his things behind him, exiting the Executive Suite. Such a big part of him wants Gaius to come after him, but knows that’s impossible, so he just wraps himself in his own negative thoughts and trudges to the elevators. For a second he wonders if Gaius is disappointed—if this was only the beginning of rejection and realizes he can’t think that way. It’s Gaius. And Gaius loves him.   
  
Pulling the glass door to the lobby open, Lin hardly notices the hand on his elbow until it tugs harder and a familiar voice clears his throat behind him, “After all that, do you think I’d just let you leave?”  
  
Lin’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen and he’s so filled with unabashed happiness that it’s all he can do to spin around and face the voice’s owner, Gaius standing in his suit, the top of his nose crinkled with a broad grin, black bangs feathered in his rosy eyes, bright with laughter. Any thought Lin had that he made the wrong decision vanished instantly.   
  
“I—I, uh,” and words and thoughts escape him, so caught up in the warmth of Gaius’ arms wrapping around his torso, pulling them close together that Lin stops thinking with his head, and leans up to kiss Gaius, capturing his lips. He tastes like his morning mocha and smells like sandalwood and reminds Lin that this, this is where he belongs.   
  
Moving a hand to cup Lin’s cheek, Gaius brushes his thumb across Lin’s face and pushes their mouths closer together, his tongue boldly darting out for just a second. Almost if he realized what he’d done, Gaius breaks the kiss and clears his throat, a faint flush forming on his face. 

“I couldn’t leave,” Lin breathes against Gaius’ lips, “I couldn’t leave because all I want is you. Half my shit is already at the apartment I signed the lease for and the rest is on its way ready for my brand new job, but,” hesitating for a second Lin laces their fingers together, “I need to trust my instinct on this. Please don’t think less of—“  
  
Gaius stops the rest of Lin’s thought with a quick peck to the forehead and whispers into the top of Lin’s ebon hair, “Oh Lin, I could never do anything but support you unconditionally.”  
  
Pressing his face into Gaius’ chest, Lin’s words come out muffled by the lapels of the other man’s jacket, “I love you,” taking a sharp inhale, Lin adds, “as long as you’ll let me.”  
  
“I love you too, as long as you’ll have me.” Lin smiles and laughs, hugging Gaius tightly to his chest. He didn’t care that Musee’s standing right behind them talking on her phone recapping the events of the morning, giving a sarcastic slow clap, he didn’t care that there’s employees surrounding them, muttering to themselves, and he didn’t care that the rest of his life was no longer meticulously planned out. All he’d cared about is that he made the right decision and the feeling of home in Gaius’ arms is all the convincing he needs—this is the only new beginning that he needs. The dawn of a new beginning with Gaius firmly at his side.    
  
Finally Lin pulls away, “I um, I don’t have an apartment. And just, just this carry-on.”

All Gaius does is laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you!


	24. Enjoy the Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final aruju! You kids couldn't even behave for the finale, gdi.

“What’s this?” Jude hears his father’s voice from the kitchen and freezes in place, holding a stack of notes from the previous semester, trying to decide what to keep and what to throw away. It couldn’t be anything _too_ bad, he rationalized—he’d given Alvin all of his things back, anyway right? So it’s not like it could be incriminating or— 

And Jude stops, still holding his papers, and wonders why he’s _still_ thinking about Alvin. They hadn’t seen each other the last few weeks of school anyway, and they’d said their good-byes, Jude knew that he’d be leaving to go back home for months now. But it didn’t really stop the pain. His lips still tingled from their kiss, his heart still ached in his chest, and his limbs felt heavy. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about it, but his parents took time off to help him move out of the dorms and into an apartment and—

“Jude Mathis, come here right now,” Derrick yells and Jude breaks his train of thought, setting the stack down on his desk as he shuffles to down the hall, peeking his head around the corner. His father’s standing in the kitchen with a box labeled by his feet, bottle of, _oh shit_ , Macallan in his hands, his mouth in such a thin line it’s nearly gone. 

His mother wanders in from the living room, a stack of blankets in her arms and clicks her tongue, “Honestly Jude, I thought you knew better.”  
  
“I—“ Jude stammers, “It isn’t mine. It’s a friend’s and I didn’t—I didn’t drink any.” He _swore_ he finished the bottle, so either Alvin somehow left more than one in his dorm, or he had a little too much to drink one night, thought he finished it and passed out on his couch. The second option seemed to be much more likely.  
  
“I do not pay the ridiculous price for your tuition to have you go out and drink,” Derrick says and examines the label. For a brief moment, Jude wonders what he’d thought if he knew he’d spent all of last semester drinking his way though the bottle with his grad student TA, but figures that little bit of knowledge wouldn’t go over well. Derrick sighs, “Though you’ve seemed to develop fine taste.”  
  
Jude blinks and bites back a laugh. Did his father just compliment his—no, Alvin’s taste in liquor? Now that was certainly something else. Scratching the back of his head he replies, “Yeah, uh okay,” and returns to his room to finish packing, his mother sighing behind him as she loads his DVDs and electronics into a box.  
  
All semester Jude had been dreading going home for the summer, but Milla had extended an invitation to continue his internship through June, July and August into the new school year, and Leia decided to take a job working as an administrator in the Graduate School of Journalism to try and make connections for when she would eventually apply. 

So, as a result, his dream of escaping dorm life was now a reality as they prepared to move into a tiny apartment together, close to campus. But if it meant not spending an entire summer berated for his life choices by his parents, it’s worth it. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks at the mess in his bedroom, wondering how packing made the clutter _worse._

Picking up the stack of papers, Jude starts to sift through them, jumping when his phone in his back pocket vibrates. The sheets of notes fall to the floor and Jude grumbles as he pulls out his phone checking the name header. It’s from Milla.  
  
_You’ll never believe what just happened to Arst._

Furrowing his brow, Jude’s about to type a reply until there’s a knock at his door. It’s normal at first, but eventually progresses to a near desperate level and Jude frowns, padding out from his room. His parents are staring at the door in confusion and Jude rolls his eyes, wondering why they couldn’t answer it for him. Not bothering to check through the peep hole, Jude swings it open and—

His heart stops beating. No, that’s not accurate at all. It beats faster, it thuds in his chest and his face heats up as Alvin stands there, his handsome face in the most ridiculous, most indignant expression he’d ever seen on the other man. Alvin has a leather duffle bag over his shoulder tagged with the destination airport and Jude doesn’t know what to say.  He doesn’t know what to do.  
  
But Alvin fills the void for him, “Hey,” and shoots him a wink and smile. It’s charming. It’s always charming, but it isn’t as confident as it usually is and Alvin gives a small titter at his words, hands gripping the straps of his duffle.  
  
“Hey,” Jude breathes and stands in the doorway, closing it just enough that his body is the only thing that can squeeze through the opening. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think or say because he never imagined that Alvin would ever be standing in front of him again. Standing in front of him with his hand wrapped in his brown hair, smirk on his face, and all Jude can do is stand frozen in place, wondering how he fell so deep.

Before he can say anything else, Jude hears his father’s voice, “Jude, who is it?” Shooting Alvin a sheepish smile, he motions for him to hold on and tries to shut the door, but Derrick catches it in his hand and pries it open. Alvin’s brown eyes widen in surprise as he’s face to face with Jude’s parents and Jude’s mother gives a small, ‘oh!’ bringing her hand to her mouth.

“Is he a friend?” Ellen asks and Alvin offers a slight wave.  
  
“He’s my—“ Jude stops and swallows. _Well what is he?_ His brain teases. Friend? Ex? The only one you’ve ever wanted? Jude gives a panicked look to Alvin. The other man looks just as confused and slightly terrified and before Jude can talk himself out of it he says, “Boy—“ and mid-word realizes what he’s said and stops.

“—friend,” Alvin finishes and Jude’s heart skips a beat, his fingers curling tightly around the wood of the door. 

“Yeah,” Jude whispers, gazing into Alvin’s brown eyes, full of that same desire that had drawn Jude to him in the first place, and it makes his knees feel a little weak. Ellen clears her throat and grabs her purse from where it’s sitting on the side of Jude’s entertainment center.  
  
“Derrick, dear, we have a few days off, hm?”  Ellen says, “We don’t get to the city often—it might be nice to see the sights.”  
  
“I’m not here for vacation,” he snaps and Jude looks over his shoulder to see his mother with an iron grip around the top of his father’s arm, a forced smile on her lips, and his father grumbles and agrees, grabbing his coat and shoes.  
  
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” she says to Jude, giving him a peck on the cheek, sliding past Jude and Alvin down the open-air hallway of the dorm building. Jude watches them leave and exit into the elevator and chuckles to himself. Looking back to Alvin, he doesn’t really know what to say—even less now that his parents had made themselves scarce—and examines Alvin’s face for any kind of hint. Alvin runs his hand through his hair.  
  
Finally Alvin drops his arm at his side, words slicing through the tension looming in the air, “I couldn’t do it, Jude. I couldn’t leave you,” He’d always sucked at expressing himself, Jude knew that, but for once in his life, it’s exactly what he wants to hear. “I’ve spent my life just kinda,” Alvin makes some kind of strange partial-sweeping-partial-rolling motion with his hands, “skating by, and I—I need you. I’ll spend forever making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”  
  
“You’re so fucking—shit,” Jude says, frustrated and elated and angry, his emotions twisted and confusing, and yanks Alvin by his scarf, tugging him close. His leather duffle bag swings and hits Jude in the side and he chuckles, kissing Alvin and pulling him inside the dorm, slamming the door behind him. Pushing Alvin against the door, Jude stands on his tiptoes, placing fervent kisses on Alvin’s lips and jaw, sliding his duffle down his shoulders. “You’re stupid as hell,” Jude remarks, darting his tongue out to grace Alvin’s neck.

“I know,” Alvin laughs and wraps his arms around Jude, letting his head hit the back of the wooden door. Jude bites down on his neck as hard as he can, pent up frustration and lust fueling his desire to leave the biggest, reddest mark he could manage. It might’ve been a few months late, sure, but payback is still payback and that’s all he cares about as he bites down harder, not a care in the world that the other man is desperately moaning underneath him.

“I love you,” Jude says as he pulls back and drags Alvin with him as he makes his way to the couch, throwing Alvin against the cushions. “I love you so fucking much, Alvin,” he says as he crosses his arms over his chest and pulls of his shirt, slowly and deliberately, watching Alvin’s every action, keeping his gaze the entire time.  
  
“I love you too,” Alvin says, reaching a hand up to trail Jude’s waist, slim and angular, chuckling to himself when Jude gave a sharp inhale. “I’m so, fuck, I’m so fucking sorry for not telling you sooner.”  
  
Jude places a finger to Alvin’s lips and moves to straddle him, thighs squeezing Alvin’s hips. If it were anyone else, Jude might be embarrassed that he’s already _so fucking hard_ , but it isn’t just anyone. It’s Alvin. It’s _his_ Alvin that smells like spices and amber and aftershave, and Jude can’t stop kissing him because his scent, no his entire presence is intoxicating, grinding their bodies together. 

Alvin’s fingers are digging into Jude’s hipbones, and he protests when Jude pulls away long enough to tear the scarf, coat, and shirt off his body, throwing them over the back of the couch. Running his fingertips over Alvin’s chest and abdomen, Jude wonders how he would’ve managed without being able to be this close with the other man. He’d fallen the moment they met and never bothered to pick himself back up.  
  
“As nice as this is,” Alvin says, reaching a hand up to brush Jude’s black bangs from his face, “I did miss fucking that tight ass of yours,” and bucks his hips upward. Jude bites the corner of his lower lip to keep himself from losing it completely and falls forward, supporting his weight on Alvin’s chest, letting his forehead drop against the other man’s skin.

Jude can feel Alvin’s fingers running down his back, dipping into his pants, sliding around to unbutton his jeans and pushes himself away, standing up long enough to wiggle his way out of them, immediately returning to Alvin’s lap locking their mouths back together. Alvin breaks long enough to breathe in short, choppy sentences, “Inside pouch in my bag,” and goes back to kissing Jude.  
  
“What?” Jude asks and runs his tongue over Alvin’s, loving every second of the way he tasted.  
  
“Inside pouch—just get it, will you?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jude shoves himself off Alvin yet again and kneels to rifle through the duffle wondering what the hell he was talking about. What was he supposed to be looking for anyway? He thinks to himself as he blindly feels around, watching Alvin out of the corner of his eye remove the rest of his clothing and groans, taking in how handsome he is.  
  
Finally he touches a small bottle, and his breath hitches in his throat. Looking over his shoulder he says, “Are you kidding me?”  
  
“What? A gentleman is always prepared,” Alvin replies with a shrug of his shoulders, arms stretched over the back of the couch. He had a stupid smirk on his face and tosses some of the hair from his eyes, far, _far_ too pleased with himself, and Jude’s torn between laughing and shaking his smug look off his face. But that’s always what he’s loved about Alvin—nothing was ever easy.

Throwing the bottle at him, Alvin pretends he’s in pain and chuckles and Jude resumes his position, holding Alvin’s face by his cheeks, running his thumb over his jaw, holding his golden eyes with Alvin’s brown. He’s not holding back today—Jude can tell, the emotion in his eyes as easy to read as open book and Jude kisses the tip of his nose, “I really love you,” he whispers into Alvin’s hair.  
  
“I do, too,” Alvin says, burying his head into Jude’s collarbone, pressing their naked bodies close together. Between Alvin’s words and his own heart thudding in his chest, Jude’s turned on even more. They’ve never done anything like this—they’ve never been so close, so together, so much like _one_ and he wants to give everything to Alvin and he can feel Alvin’s cock, hard between his thighs.  
  
Shifting his weight, Jude falls forward and Alvin fidgets with the bottle of lube, running a slicked finger inside of Jude, and Jude doesn’t bother biting back his moan when the other man manages to slip another finger inside of him. He wants Alvin to hear him. He wants Alvin to hear how uncontrollably aroused he is, wants to remind him that it’s because of _him_ and no one else.  
  
“Still tight as hell,” Alvin says, his own words deep and guttural, “I fucking love it, God,” he says and guides Jude’s hips to his cock and Jude doesn’t waste any time shoving it into him, wincing when it’s just a little painful. He could’ve done that more gingerly, sure, but he’s turned on far past his normal limits and Alvin is all he wants.  
  
Gripping the back of the couch, Jude rides him without reservation, without limits because he knows he can handle it and the feeling of Alvin inside him is perfect and wonderful and so, so right. It fills him up like he was meant to be there and Alvin wraps his arms around Jude, moaning into Jude’s neck.  
  
“You barely need me,” he breathes and thrusts upward.  
  
“No, no, I—“ Jude says, and uses his knees as leverage getting a better angle, Alvin’s cock deeper than it was before and it makes a long string of curse come from his lips, “I need you Alvin. Don’t ever say that.”  
  
Alvin groans and moves his hands to grip the back of Jude’s thighs, his fingernails digging into his soft skin, “I love you Jude, I’m so sorry,” and drives harder into him. Jude chuckles and wraps his arms around Alvin’s neck, leaning back to look at him in the eyes.  
  
“Shh, don’t apologize,” he says, bestowing a quick peck on his lips, throwing his head back. Alvin has a tight grip around Jude and Jude maneuvers one hand to wrap around his own cock, keeping his gaze with Alvin and touches himself, pathetically exposed, whispering how much he much he loved the other man, how much he needed him and Alvin tells him he can’t hold on any longer. Jude isn’t too far behind him and Alvin bucks his hips upward, coming inside of Jude.  
  
“Shit, that was—“ Alvin says and darts his eyes down to watch Jude.  
  
“That was so fucking hot,” Jude breathes, biting his lower lip, “You could barely contain yourself,” he said, eyes half-lidded, and runs his hand along his length faster until he spills against his own stomach. Alvin leans over and captures their lips, nipping at Jude’s tongue.  
  
“Not as hot as you,” he says and grins and Jude laughs, shoving him away, and Alvin releases his hold around Jude’s waist. Jude didn’t realize how much he’d been supported by the other man and falls backward, sliding off Alvin’s lap, back hitting the back of the coffee table.  
  
“You’re the worst,” Jude says and leans his head against Alvin’s thighs, exhaling loudly. In the back of his head he registered that his parents didn’t leave indefinitely and he should probably get up and get dressed, but it felt so right sitting here in his dorm room, naked and stupid in his post-coital haze with Alvin’s fingers running through his hair.  
  
“I know, I know,” Alvin laughs and Jude closes his eyes, enjoying the closeness, enjoying that his heart hadn’t stopped drumming in his ears and his stomach still flipped and twisted, reminding him how unbelievably happy he was that Alvin had actually come back.

Finally, he looks up and asks, “So what are you going to do?” Alvin crinkles his nose a little.  
  
“Work—we own a subsidiary out here. It was my plan when I thought I might stay, so” he shrugs and looks up at the ceiling, giving a small titter, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to be some thirty-year-old unemployed loser.”  
  
Jude takes a second to process before he asks, “You’re thirty?”  
  
Alvin rolls his head back and gives him a half-hearted smile, “See why I said fucking eighteen year olds like that should be illegal?”  
  
“Huh,” Jude remarks and then adds, “Don’t tell my parents.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dare,” Alvin snorts and stands up, helping Jude to his feet, “We should really get dressed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jude says and weaves through the boxes, making his way to his clothing tossed carelessly on the floor. Picking up his pants, he feels the weight of his phone in the back pocket and pulls it out, Milla’s text still on his display screen.  
  
_You’ll never believe what just happened to Arst._ It read, the same as before.

Jude frowns and unlocks the device, clicking to Facebook. Neither Lin nor Arst had updated with anything, but there was a photo of the two men from Musee captioned with “reunion” and a series of emojis. It makes him smile and he looks over his shoulder at Alvin who’s standing in his pants, rifling through a box labeled “entertainment” his hair stuck to his forehead.

  
Tapping the text icon, Jude taps out a reply.  
  
**_i’ll bet you i can._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uwahhhh, thank you ; 3;


	25. Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnnd the epilogue. 
> 
> I really, really want to thank everyone for sticking around. It means a lot to me. I wasn't expecting this many people to read it and to be so supportive. I appreciate it! From the bottom of my little heart.

“Alright, it’s time to do the exchange!” Musee announces, clapping her hands together. She’s standing on the top of a table and Gaius has his arms around her calves to prevent her from toppling over, looking straight ahead so no one gets the idea that he was even remotely close to peeking up her too-short skirt.  
  
Tonight, Rogue is closed for a private party. Gaius had rented it out for the Christmas celebration that Musee had somehow looped him into planning. He’d tried desperately to avoid it, but she dug her long pointed claws into him and forced him into helping. He’d really planned the whole thing.

Everyone’s milling about, Ludger’s behind the bar making drinks even though Gaius advised that they could really just serve themselves, but he’s bright and cheerful as always, shaking up a martini, pouring it into the glass in front of Jude. He seemed a lot happier since he dropped out to pursue his dream of becoming a chef, though he did still run  _Culinary Dropout_ for the university—even if he's technically no longer a student. It looked good on a resume after all. 

Jude’s sitting sandwiched between Balan and Jill both leaning very close, the latter of the two swirling her vodka club soda with one finger on the straw. It’s making Alvin nervous, but he’d been bullied into a corner by Leia, asking him a million questions about what his company was doing to promote a sustainable future—some topic for the paper, he guessed.  
  
When Leia’s distracted long enough, he pushes past her and comes up behind Jude, tugging on his arm, “You are not allowed to make friends with them,” he says and pulls Jude from the chair, hugging him close to his body. “Honestly, Balan’s the worst and,” he points a finger at Jill. She rolls her eyes. “You’re crazy.”  
  
“Relax, they didn’t say anything,” Jude says, voice muffled in Alvin’s shirt. Alvin seems okay with this response and gives the each of them a pointed stare before steering Jude to where everyone else is gathering, ready to exchange their presents, save for Milla, who has her hands full with tiny o’d'oeuvres, cheeks stretched like a chimpmunk.

“I said—“ Musee calls again and then gives an exasperated sigh looking down at Gaius, “Could you help out a little? Honestly,” she mutters.  
  
Clearing his throat loudly, Gaius manages to get everyone’s attention and the chatter slows to a halt. “We’re doing the exchange,” he advises and the chatter starts back up as they all make their way to the long table in the back of the room to grab where they set their gifts.  
  
“Alright and I’ll announce who your Secret Santa was,” Musee says, gesturing for Gaius to hand her a sheet. “Alright Lin, you have Alvin.”  
  
Lin catches Alvin’s eyes from across the room and it makes Alvin nervous. Sure, they’d become a _little_ closer since they both ditched the plane ride to the West Coast together, but they still weren’t really friends. Though Lin had been making an honest effort to tone down the sass—just a little.  
  
Musee’s words fade into the background as Lin makes his way through the crowd, pushing past Nadia who begrudgingly handed her gift to Milla, and Ivar who kept stammering as he tried to have a full conversation with Jill, his present wrapped in a lovely blue paper. Lin hands the gift to Alvin, flicking his black hair from his eyes.  
  
“Here,” he mutters and Alvin accepts the gift, snatching the tissue paper from the top of the bag. Peering inside he makes a noise of discontent and pulls out a tie, designer label emblazoned on the back of the garment. Alvin looks at Lin, trying to get an explanation, and Lin laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ties are classic,” he says, and reaches a hand to tug on Alvin’s scarf, “this is not.”  
  
“I hate ties,” Alvin says, feeling the material between his fingers. It’s expensive and it certainly _is_ fashionable, but even still, it’s a tie.  
  
“I know,” Lin smirks and walks away, “Try it out—all men look good with a tie,” he throws over his shoulder.  
  
“And finally, Jude you have Lin,” she calls and tosses the sheet of paper carelessly on the floor. Gaius helps her down, worried she might snap an ankle in her ridiculously high shoes, or trip over her long blue-green hair, not at all tied back. 

“Hey,” Jude says and waves, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t have a box or a bag, just a stupid smile across his face, his hair pinned back with pink bobby pins. Lin’s never really cared for those bobby pins, but concedes that they do suit him and do make him look cute and stops. Lin didn’t just think that.  
  
“What is it?” Lin says, accepting the envelope, and procures a letter and a gift card that falls into his hands. Turning it over in his hands, it has the logo for the coffee shop printed on the front and a normal magnetic stripe on the back.  
  
Jude tucks some of his black hair behind his ear, “If you swipe it, you can get one free Americano for every day next semester,” he laughs a little and fidgets on the balls of his feet, “I figured with your new assistant professor position, you’ll have a lot of work ahead of you. Might need the uh—“ Jude stops, Lin giving him his normal impassive expression, “caffeine?”  
  
Snorting, Lin looks at the letter, written in Jude’s handwriting, “And this?”  
  
“It’s a thank you—for everything,” Jude says, chewing on his lip, “I know we’re not really friends but I—I really appreciate it. You might not think it, but you um, you did a lot for me last Spring semester.”  
  
Reading over the contents, Lin doesn’t bother hiding his smile, “You’re welcome,” he says, keeping his golden eyes fixated on the letter. Jude doesn’t move from where he’s standing and Lin adds, “You’re dismissed.”  
  
Jude nods and shuffles away and Lin watches him depart out of the corner of his eye, folding up the letter and stuffing it back in the envelope, chuckling under his breath. He hardly notices when Gaius comes up behind him and slides his arms around Lin’s torso, giving him a small kiss on the cheek.  
  
“I have a present for you too,” he whispers in Lin’s ear and Lin laughs, trying to push himself out of Gaius’ grip, but he’s strong and his embrace is tight and it makes Lin feel secure, so he just brings a hand up and holds on to Gaius’ forearm.  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Mhm,” Gaius says and rocks back and forth with Lin, “You know, it’s been one year since we met.”  
  
“Almost—in two days on Monday the 28th.”  
  
Gaius chuckles as they watch their friends bustle about, showing off presents, harassing Ludger for more alcohol, laughing, talking and it makes Lin happy. Happy and loved.  
  
“Are you glad you stayed?” Gaius asks, giving Lin another kiss on his cheek.  
  
Nodding, Lin makes eye contact with Alvin, seated at the bar with a lowball glass, sphere shaped ice rolling in the amber alcohol. Alvin gives a small smirk and tips his glass in Lin’s direction before turning around to continue his conversation with Milla and Leia. Finally Lin replies, “More than anything.”

*  
  
End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you!! Everyone's support really means a lot to me c:
> 
> Some fun facts I didn't want to add into the story since I thought it might detract from the experience on where it is and what it's based off of: 
> 
> It's set in New York City, they attend Columbia University. 
> 
> Literally ALL of the restaurants are real places in New York City--I've looked through the window and sighed at the expensive ones when I lived on the East Coast hahahaha. The only exception is Rogue (which is based on my favorite champagne lounge I go to)
> 
> Alvin and Ludger are both from Los Angeles. They attended Stanford for undergrad in NorCal. Alvin played baseball and joined a fraternity. He took extra long in undergrad, fucked around traveling, and then finally went to get his MBA.
> 
> Ludger wanted to be like his big bro.
> 
> Wingul's fellowship was at UCLA. 
> 
> Gaius is originally from Massachusetts and attended their most well-known school (ten guess which one). Wingul was very, very displeased at this news, but forgives him for attending Wharton for his MBA. 
> 
> I've had friends attend almost all of these schools so I was pretty familiar with them thankfully! I did use a little bit from when I went to Johns Hopkins but eh. Tbh, it's obviously not plot relevant and sometimes it's loosely based at best, but the above places were the location settings that I used. 
> 
> Again, thank you to all the readers! I appreciate you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! New chapters will be posted on Sunday. I'm nectar-imperial on tumblr, so here or there, feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
